Mirror, Mirror
by Drowned-dreamer
Summary: Sometimes what you see in the mirror can shock you. Josef finds himself face to face with a 10 year old Logan Echolls and he doesn't know what to do. And for a vampire, that's not a good thing. NOT A ONE-SHOT ANYMORE-Story continues. DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to these characters, I'm just hoping they'll let me borrow them for a while.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- I'm trying my hand at both of these fandoms for the first time. I'm publishing this as a one-shot, but if there is enough interest, I might turn it into a full-fledged story. So if you want more, you know what you gotta do, right? Uh huh, that's right...Reviews! (the dreaded 'r' word, I know) Still, would love to hear from ya! **

**Spoilers- none that I know of. **

**Rating it M for language to be safe.**

**Takes place in L.A. sometime before Logan moves to Neptune and before Mick reunites with Beth.**

Josef Kostan hated children.

He hates them with an intentional fury and an irrational dread. There is something so completely _uncomfortable_ about children and that made him want to break and tear into things and damn the consequences.

Josef hated being uncomfortable.

So why, in all his fury and gall, was he seemingly imprisoned by a pair of brown eyes set wide in the small, lean face of a lanky, frail boy halfway across a crowded room. Was it just because this was possibly the only child he had ever seen at one of these tedious and self-serving Hollywood charity events that was really more like a gathering of vultures circling the next soon-to-be victim of the Hollywood machine? Or was there something else there? Like the way the kid, who had to be only 10 or 11 or 7 or 3 for all he knows or cares, held his jaw and set his hands at his side like he just didn't give a shit about anyone in this room. Josef could emphasize with that. Hell, he was only here at this snooze fest because Mick had dragged him along, _again_, to go after a mark and he knew Josef could get easily get him into one of these shindigs, because, damn it, he was rich!

Josef twirls the subpar scotch in his glass for the 1000th time that night and wishes it held something else. Something a little thicker and headier. Something a little bit redder in color. He raised it to his lips, but doesn't drink. His eyes continue to track the boy.

The kid had moved away from the center of the party and was leaning unenthusiastically against a large window overlooking a predictably manicured yard. His small body twitches and jerks with boredom until a waiter carrying a tray of champagne drifts by him. Suddenly, a glass is in his small hands and he's eagerly throwing back the drink like a 40-year old alcoholic.

Josef stops the slight twitching at the corner of his mouth almost as soon as it begins.

The drink finished, the kid continues to play with the glass, twirling it through his hands and watching the crowd only for the arrival of the next drink-laden waiter. His eyes are wide and full of knowing. Hell, most adults Josef meets couldn't convey that level of world-wariness and arrogance at the same time. It was an expression he was eerily comfortable with.

Josef chuckles and looks down at his own tumbler.

"Hey, where have you been?" Mick asks, popping up beside him in a heated rush.

Josef turns and shrugs slightly, "Should I tell you about my time as a sheep herder in the Alps or how about getting laid by seven geishas in the emperor's own summer palace?"

Mick raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. "What?"

Josef sucks in a breath, mostly out of habit. "Did you find your..." he waves his hands about apathetically, "...guy? Does this mean we can return the handlebars to their original upright position and exit this roller coaster of extreme delight?"

"No, he hasn't shown up yet. But my contact told he should be here soon. Unfortunately, that means-"

Josef puts a hand up to stop him. "Don't say it. If you say that it, that will make it come true." He turns to Mick, locking eyes. "If he is not here soon, and by soon, I mean like last year, I will kill him myself."

Mick smiles lightly and nods. "I may just let you."

At that moment, Josef's gaze slips and returns to the kid who had apparently found another drink to replace the champagne he had emptied. Unfortunately, Mick notices the slip.

"Who the hell brings a kid to one of these things?" He growls, scanning the immediate area for signs of a watchful parent. "Is he getting crocked? I bet he's not even in his teens yet." The irritation in his voice is unmistakable. Mick definitely did _not_ hate children.

Josef turned to reply, but Mick was already gone, slipping through the crowd in the same manner he arrived. Joseph lifts his glass again, and then lowers it down, slightly puzzled over that exact thing.

Unfortunately, he also makes the mistake of looking up. At the same exact time as the kid.

For a 400-year old vampire, not much really shook Josef anymore. Sure, things were occasionally shocking and tragic, but that sort of foundation-rocking, soul-searing terror just didn't happen to him. Until now.

Looking into the boy's eyes is like opening a gate unto a sun-dazzled field after spending a lifetime in the darkness. Memories and emotions he hadn't known he possessed wash over him like a tsunami, pulling him apart and pushing him under. He's looking at a mirror of his former self, his former _human _self, and it makes him wish for things he never even knew he wished for.

_Who the fuck is this kid? _

"Echolls," Mick huffs. "Smug-ass bastard brings his kid to the party and ditches him." It takes Josef several seconds to even register what he had just been told. Mick hitches his thumb towards the center of the crowded ballroom where a crowd was gathered around a tall, well-built Hollywood cliché of a man. "Fucking actors," Mick seethes and shakes his head. "He brings his wife and kids with him to all this stuff so he can show what a great and loving family man he is. Meanwhile, little Logan over there is off on a bender," he flips his thumb forward and then points to where a young, dark-haired teenage girl was wrapping herself up around a guy old enough to be her grandfather, "and precious Trina is looking for her next producer-slash-dealer-slash-boyfriend."

"Ah, Mick, I didn't know you watched the Hallmark movie of the week," Josef laughs, patting his arm. Anything to get the feelings under control and locked back into their lead-lined box.

Mick brushes off his hand and rolls his shoulders. "I just..." Stopping himself, he closes his eyes as the anger surging through him threatens to overtake his control. It doesn't take long though before he calms and the anger is contained. "Kids shouldn't have to suffer for the sins of their parents, you know." He says quietly.

Josef agrees but thinks that most kids do nothing but suffer for the sins of the parent. It's just the way of the world. Still, it bothers him more than he's willing to admit. Especially now.

"You gonna do something about it?" Josef hears himself ask.

Mick looks at him curiously, not sure what his angle is. "Maybe."

Suddenly, Mick's phone chirps and he looks down at the text. "He's here. I'll signal you when I've got what I need from him, or if I need you to step in." Like smoke, Mick evaporates into the jungle throng of people.

By now, the kid has a new glass and his posture against the wall is unsteady and slipping slightly.

A woman, in an elegant backless blue cocktail dress approaches the boy. "There you are! What are you doing? I told you to stay with me." She says, clearly annoyed. In a softer voice, she adds, "you know he wanted us to stay close tonight." Bending down to his eye level, she runs a finger over his cheek in a gesture both tender and patronizing.

For the first time, the kid's eyes soften to a warm cocoa of longing and hopefulness. It only lasts a second, as his gaze darts off towards the man in the center of the room. "I'm sorry, Mom. I just...couldn't." His voice hitches and breaks. It's the first time Josef has heard him speak and a little tiny ember in his cold heart roars into a sudden bonfire. He quickly finds the fire extinguisher and quenches it before it can do any further damage.

The woman sighs, her shoulders sag, and she drops her hand from his cheek. "I know," she replies. "Stay here and be good. Don't make a scene." There is a heavy, unbroken silence between them. She quickly checks over her shoulder and stands up. "He's pretty preoccupied tonight anyway. Hopefully he won't notice." She seems to say this more to herself than the kid. She turns to him one last time, completely oblivious to the way his eyes are slightly hazy and his body can't seem to find balance. "Don't get into trouble." She warns and slides back into the crowd.

Josef thinks he might just hate her more than a little. It bothers him immensely.

The boy however, watches her go with that same soft, pleading look. He doesn't seem bothered by the coldness of her manner, only by the fact that she is no longer there. Not long after, he lets his gaze drift back to the floor, and he finishes the rest of the drink in his hand, not with gusto, but like its something disgusting but necessary.

Josef has a sudden, desperate urge to rush to the boy's side and comfort him.

_Where had that come from?_

Josef clears his head by scanning the room for Mick. He's still far away, tailing his mark and Josef prays he'll nail the guy so they can leave this place like it's on fire and never, ever have to think about it again. Not for the first time, he knows he needs a _real_ drink. He throws back the scotch and winces. It's fouler than his mood.

From the corner of his eye, he sees yet another woman approaching the boy. She's wearing a dress so tight, her chest looks as if it might completely slip free of its own free will, which he supposes, was probably her intention. She smiles at the boy as if she's the shark and he's the chum. Kneeling down, so that the errant cleavage is right in front of his watery gaze, she coos, "Well, hello, little boy."

Logan looks up and raises an eyebrow, fighting to uncross his eyes. "Hello," he answers coldly.

"Are you here with your mommy and daddy?" The way her tongue juts out on the word 'daddy' makes Josef realizes that she knows exactly who this kid is. And who he belongs to. She runs a red lacquered finger tip up his arm and over his chest.

He turns away, not wanting to answer, but she runs the finger up under his chin and lifts it to her. "Yes," he squeaks and looks away, but not all that surprised at her actions.

She chuckles softly, leaning into his ear, "Well, I see where you get all your good looks. Your father is quite the charmer. I bet you must take after him."

In a move so quick that not even Josef can see it, he turns on her, fixing her in a stone-cold glare. "Yes, he's very fond of snakes." The words are slurred, but the intention is not.

She tightens her grip on his arm and a look of pain flashes across his face.

Before he can register what he's doing, Josef is at the boy's side, pulling the blonde away. "Hey," he snips, "the line for the wretched coke-whore's bathroom has finally cleared. I think you really should get freshened up. You look absolutely awful."

Like a caged lion, she bares her teeth, "What did you say?"

"I think I called you a 45-year old pedophile trying to go for the 15-year old skank look. Really," he flips over the spaghetti strap of her dress and smiles, "you should never wear red, it only makes you look even trampier. I think perhaps you should stick with a VD green. Much more your color."

Her eyes narrow, and she is ready for a fight. Fortunately, so is Josef. And he knows who will win.

One look from him is all it takes. One look at the beast he keeps locked away most days and only lets out to play when he's feeling particularly nasty. Her face turns to ashen white and she rushes through the crowd, nearly toppling people in her haste to get away from the monster he knows he truly is.

Josef can feel the boy watching him at his side, but he refuses to look down. Looking at him would be admitting that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't hate children as much as he thought he did. Well, maybe he didn't hate _this_ kid. Maybe because this kid was just too damn much like him to hate. And maybe, he felt something else about this kid that he didn't and couldn't admit. Not yet. Maybe never.

As he begins to walk away, he hears Logan struggle out a weak, "thanks," before sliding down the wall and passing out.

Josef doesn't turn around. He just keeps going.

And maybe, that's for the best. Well, that's what he tells himself anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n- So, I've decided to keep going with this story. It intrigues me. Not sure yet how I want to handle it, but I've got some good ideas for where I want it to lead. Angst, mystery, supernatural stuff. What more do you want? So, if you want to come along on the journey, how about some reviews!**

**This takes place in the VMarsverse in the summer between Junior and Senior year, right after LITB. In the Moonlightverse, sometime after Sonata. So, spoilers for that, I guess. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own these characters, so I will try not to mess 'em up. **

Surprises

Josef Kostan hates surprise. Even after 400 years, they are rarely pleasant. It's one of the reasons he likes to obsess over stock prices and news reports. Generally, there are no real surprises there. Very little about the daily rumble of humanity has changed in four centuries.

Except when Beth Turner calls. Then, he knows he's usually in for a very pleasant surprise.

"Blondie," he says with faked brightness, but also a smidge of real warmth. "Always a pleasure to hear from you. What are you calling to accuse me of today? Or have you finally got bored waiting on Mr. Right to take matters into his own hands, so to speak?" He leans back into his leather desk chair and tries to fight from smiling into the phone. It's been a long time since he had a good sparring partner and Beth was a formidable opponent. Almost better than Mick.

She's not taking the bait today, but he can hear her erratic breathing and racing heartbeat through the tiny digital filter of the phone. It's not panic, but it's not calm. Her continued silence told him that something about his little quip was a bit too close for comfort. When at last she does speak, her voice is cautionary. "Why are you being accused of murdering some kid down in Neptune?"

The sheer absurdity of what she has said causes him to laugh loudly. "What?" He coughs out. "Is this some sort of joke. Did I miss the memo about it being prank-your-boyfriend's-friend day? Is Mick still mad about last weekend? I mean, I told him that bastard Antonio was stealing from me, what did he expect?"

"No, Josef." There is a fair amount of disgust present in her voice. But there is also worry. "Why are you on the news?"

"I'm n–," he suddenly glances over to his bank of TV screens and reaches for his remote. He turns the sound up on the one showing local news. Images of crowds, police tape, a scared-looking blonde girl, a latino kid, all flash around in some sort of disjointed storyline. Then, he sees it. The face and a name that has haunted the deepest, darkest corner spaces of his subconscious for close to seven years. He speaks into the phone absently as if reassuring himself. "I'm not in Neptune, Beth. I'm right here in my office. So, unless vamps have the capability to teleport that I wasn't told about, that cannot possibly be me." He can't stop staring at the screen, barely notices the fact that he's still holding the phone.

"I'm coming over," she states, cutting through the swirl of his emotions.

"Why, to check up on me? To make sure I'm really here and not off murdering someone?"

"Yes."

For a moment, Josef smiles wanly. This girl is honest to a fault, and stubborn as a mule. "Fine, if you feel that you cannot live without seeing me. Bring Mick. We'll make it a threesome."

She is silent again, and if it wasn't for the strange pacing of her breath, he would have sworn she hung up. "What is going on?" She says quietly.

Josef stares back down at the screen. At the face. The eyes. God, how could he have ever forgotten about those eyes? "I don't know, Beth. But it's not me." He tries to sound convincing, but he fails.

The phone disconnects, and he turns up the volume louder.

_"...into custody. Police are confirming that Aaron Echolls will be charged with at least two counts of aggravated battery, possible statutory rape, and possibly even homicide for the murder of software giant, Jake Kane's daughter, Lilly, and will likely not get bail. Currently, he is under going surgery and will likely remain under police custody at Neptune Memorial until he released by his doctors. Fans around the world are in shocked silence as news of Aaron's accident and arrest broke just a few hours ago. His son, Logan, is also in police custody for an unrelated manslaughter charge. We are yet unsure whether the two events happened simultaneously or in correlation. We will keep you posted as new developments in the story occur. Back to you." _

The camera cuts to the news studio, and a plastic red-haired reporter begins speaking.

_"Thank you, Brian. Man, the Echoll's family just keeps getting crazier and crazier. Do you think they will be looking farther into Lynn's suicide now that both her husband and her son are being charged with these sort of heinous crimes?"_

It cuts back again to the other plastic, slightly-graying reporter on the steps of the Neptune Sheriff's station.

_"I don't know, Genna. Probably to early to say. The earliest reports of Aaron's arrest though, were saying that the girl he assaulted was dating his son at the time. It is also believed that she was attacked by Aaron for possession of some sort of video evidence that he slept with Lilly Kane who was brutally murdered last year. At the time, Lilly was also dating his son."_

The camera cuts just in time to see the completely faked look of shock on the red-head's face.

_"That is just horrible. What a tragic story."_ She goes silent, unable to vocalize her thoughts. She even includes the customary slow head shake.

Josef turns the volume back down, and places his head on his steepled fingers. He sighs and closes his eyes, as the memories from that party replay on repeat. When Beth and Mick arrive, he still hasn't moved.

"Josef?" Mick asks, a touch of tenderness to his voice.

Looking up without really seeing either of them, he says, "Mick and Beth, I want you to go to Neptune and figure this out. Definitely bad for business. The last thing I need is my investors freaking out because I've been arrested for a murder I didn't commit. I mean, if they are going to think that, they should at least be worried about all the people I have actually killed." Josef places a knowing look at Mick, one he's sure he'll get. Vamps can't afford publicity like this. Far too many questions will be asked. "I'll call Ryder and Logan and have them get you the facts of the case."

"What do you want us to do?" Mick asks darkly, staring at his friend's emotionless face.

Josef startles a bit at the implications of his tone and finally looks Mick in the eye. "I just want to know what is going on. That's all. Maybe it's nothing, maybe it's one of those sick jokes the universe likes to play." He's starting to feel a bit queasy and wonders how long it's been since he's fed. It's not like him to forget something that important. He makes a mental note to have his freshies put on to a schedule for the immediate future.

Beth frowns and says, "Sick jokes?"

"Yeah," Josef says, turning to her with only a hint of a smile, "like how everyone on the planet supposedly has a double, an evil twin, out there somewhere." He waves his hand in an encompassing gesture. "Apparently mine is some bratty teenager who likes to get in fights and waste daddy's money. I guess that almost makes me the good twin. Who knew?" The smile grows, then falls again. "Or maybe this is some sort of twisted revenge scheme. Just check it out for me, okay? I'll pay for whatever you need." He can hear the desperation tinging his voice, and the queasiness comes back ten-fold.

"Joseph–," she says, then stops herself, looking up to Mick, before setting her worried gaze back to his. Who knew she was actually concerned about him? What was that about? Did she really think they were friends now? Josef swallows air, and forces himself to look away. He reminds himself that he doesn't have human 'friends'. They are a liability. A deadly liability.

Mick sighs. "We'll leave tonight and keep you informed." He makes no movement toward the door, instead, he turns to Beth and whispers softly. "Could you just give us a minute, Beth." His eyes and voice are sad and sincere.

Against her nature, she nods and exits the office.

Mick approaches Josef's large, tidy desk and stands over him, looking frustrated. Josef pushes back his chair and stands. "What is it?" He snaps.

"Are you going to tell me what is really going on?" Mick asks, watching his friend pace around in front of the floor to ceiling glass window of his office.

Josef turns to look out the window over the city. _My city, this is my city, _he thinks, not even sure why. "What do you want me to say? I really have no idea why some kid looks like me. It's not like I have some sort of long-lost son or something. You know as well as I do that's not possible." Josef keeps his gaze earnest and his posture controlled.

Nodding, Mick leans against Josef's desk. "Yeah, I know. Do you know this kid, though? Or his family? I need a place to start. There has to be some sort of connection, right?"

Josef runs his hand through his hair and rubs his shoulder. He shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. I have never met Aaron, and I don't know Lynn. Other than that..." He lifts his hands upward, palms open. "Isn't that why you're the detective?"

"I detect that you're hiding something, Josef. That's what I detect." Mick raises his head and sees that Josef's tall form momentarily loses some of it's confident posture.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mick leans forward, peering closely. Josef can see the flecks of blue in his friends grey eyes. It's a bit unnerving, and probably why Mick is so damn good at his job. "You've never met that kid before?"

The slight shifting away of Josef's own dark eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"You did too." Josef says, catching Mick off-guard. "At one of those so-called 'charity' events held by the Hollywood elite, about seven years ago. He was just a little kid, drinking in the corner. You were after some sort of embezzler or whatever, and he was there with his folks."

The memory washes over Mick. "Yeah...yeah! I knew something was off about that kid. He was totally wasted and nobody seemed to care. I remember wanting to kill his dad." Mick smiles grimly as he looks up at his friend, the realization of what he said hitting home. Josef turns his back to him again, looking out the window. "Wait. Why do you remember it?"

_Because it's hard to look at your own soul reflected back at you and not be a little bit affected? _Josef thinks bitterly. He offers Mick no further explanation, and Mick doesn't press it.

"Don't worry, Josef. We'll figure this out." In silence, he leaves.

Josef continues to stare out the window into the night over his city. In the background, the news drones on.

**a/n- As always, I am open to hearing from you. So how about some reviews, yeah? Goal for this story is to publish a chapter at least once a week, maybe more often, depending on my work schedule. The way I have it mapped out now, it will probably be at least 20 chapters, so I hope you all like that sort of thing. :)**

**Also, don't have a beta on this one, but if anyone wants to, I would appreciate it!**


	3. Chapter 3

Silence

Beth Turner hates silence. It was too full of indecision and unclaimed possibilities. She really hates it when Mick is silent.

The whole drive to Neptune, Mick is silent. Anger simmers in Beth, waiting for the opportunity to spill out. As they pull off the PCH and head toward the business district in the little coastal town of Neptune, her pot finally erupts.

"Okay! Are you going to tell me what we're doing here, or am I just going to have to go and figure it out on my own. You know, my old contacts at Buzzwire would love a story like this..."

Mick turns to her quickly, in turmoil. "Beth, you cant'–!"

She waves him off. "Of course not. But you better talk! What the hell is going on?"

Mick shakes his head, turning his car into the hotel parking lot. A sign on the outside of the tall building proudly exclaiming it as the Neptune Grand. He looks at her sadly. "I'm really not sure. Josef didn't know anything. I don't even know where to start, really. I mean, the kid's not a vamp, he's human. He can't be Josef's kid, we can't reproduce. Other than a very uncanny coincidence, I don't know what else to look for." He kills the engine and remains there, staring at the lonely sea of cars.

Beth sighs and unfastens her seat belt. She exits the car and then turns back, hands on the window frame, her hair spilling in waves over her outstretched arms. "Well, come on, then. Let's go see what Ryder and Logan have dug up for us."

After settling in on the fluffy king-sized bed and starting up her laptop, Beth at last relaxes her anger towards Mick. He's staring down hard at his own laptop as if he could make it speak by glaring at it. She smiles and he looks up at her. His forehead unwrinkles and his eyes soften. "Not mad?"

She shakes her head and returns to pull up the files sent to her by Josef's tech-support vamps.

After what seems like hours, she looks up. Apparently Josef had told Ryder and Logan to be very thorough. Not only was the arrest report here, but all of the Echoll's boy's previous records, his medical history, even his school files. Because he was also quasi-famous, she also had a mountain of tabloid gossip to sort through as well. Looking to Mick, she moans. "This is like searching for a needle in the bottom of the ocean. Especially when I have no idea what kind of needle I'm even looking for." She scans the screen thoughtfully. "For such a young kid, it sure seems like he's got quite a colorful history."

Mick glances up at her. "What have you found?"

The laptop is set aside. "I'm not really sure. Troubled past? And apparently quite the lady's man." She raises her eyebrow at Mick suggestively.

Mick quirks a smile at her and shakes his head. "Josef would love that," he replies quietly.

"So what about you? You find anything in his medical records?" Beth slides off the bed and joins him on the leather sofa, placing her legs over his.

Unconsciously, he begins swirling his hand on her thigh. Still looking at the screen, he frowns. "I don't know. Nothing unusual about his birth records. Mother, Lynn Ellen Lester-Echolls, a classically-trained actress turned movie-of-the-week starlet. Father, Aaron Dean Echolls, action movie has-been, one time People's Sexiest Man Alive." He shudders for some reason before continuing. "Logan Peter Echolls, born May 3, 1988."

"Apparently his birth made national headlines," Beth interrupts. "He was on the cover of over 20 major newspapers only a week after he was born."

Mick nods, unsurprised. "But from all accounts here, it was a standard birth. Nothing odd or funny in the medical records. But-," he scans the laptop screen, pulling it closer, "this kid was in the hospital for bumps, bruises, and broken bones far more than he should have been." He looks up at Beth and she frowns.

"What does that mean?"

Mick sighs. It had been a very long time since his medical training, and that was mostly just used in the army as a medic. Still, it came in handy for a lot of PI jobs. Especially when he was dealing with battered spouses and their kids. Logan's medical record was consistent with a history of physical abuse. But there were no reports on file, and multiple trips to the ER in the same month was not proof of anything. But if he was abused, it might go a long way in explaining the kid's behavior in the intervening years. And his extreme dislike of Logan's father. "Nothing good," he replies.

He remembers that night with Josef. He remembers seeing Aaron in the middle of a crowd, mostly women, fawning over their praise and adoration. He remembers the strong desire to rip out that man's throat. At the time, he thought it was because he had abandoned his son to the questionable morals of a Hollywood party without so much as a glance. Now, he isn't sure if his vamp senses didn't pick something else up. He slides his hand over Beth's shoulder and pulls her closer.

"What are thinking about," she asks softly, nestling into his chest.

Taking a moment to gather his scattered thoughts, he runs his hand through her hair. He loved how it smelled. Sunshine, flowers, humanity. He cast his eyes at her face as she looked up with her bright blue eyes gleaming at him in love. "Beth, I want to help this kid. Not just for Josef."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Really? Why?"

He shakes his head. "I can't really explain it. I just feel like I need to."

She nods and smiles, rubbing her hand across his chest in little circles._ Her_ Mick. Thinking about how protective he was of kids made her chest go all fuzzy. For a vamp, he sure was a softy. "Okay. Where should we start?"

Mick bends down and kisses the top of her head, thankful she didn't put up a fight on this. On paper, Logan looked like any other spoiled rich kid with too much money and not enough rules. But Mick had seen him at that party. There was something so _Josef_ about the looks he was given off, it was uncanny. Old and world-weary. Knowing and judgmental. Mick trusted Josef more than any other vamp. Hell, he trusted Josef more than anyone, besides Beth. But Beth didn't have the relationship with Josef he had. She trusted him to keep Mick safe, but she didn't know Josef like he did. Josef was good at keeping himself and his emotions hidden. And if Logan truly was anything like him, he would be hard to get to as well. But worth it. Every bit of it.

"Well, since his mom is dead and his dad is incarcerated, is there anyone else that he's close to?" Mick asks, running his hand through her blond hair.

"He has an older sister, Trina, who lives in L.A., but they don't seem close. His last girlfriend was Lilly Kane, and she was killed. Murdered, too, apparently." Beth's brow furrows. Saying the facts out loud made her realize just how sad this kid's life was. _ How awful to have no care about you,_ she thinks.

"Anyone else? Friends? A new girl friend?"

Beth climbs off of Mick and the couch and goes back to the bed to grab her laptop. Mick joins her, but remains silent. She pulls up the tabloid papers she was trying to avoid and scans them quickly. "He likes to surf with some of his school buddies. Maybe one of them could help?"

Mick sits up and nods. "Who?"

"Um, well, there's Duncan Kane," she stops and frowns. "No, this one says they aren't speaking. Wonder why?" She types and pulls up a new gossip page. "Here. Logan hangs around with this, um, Richard Casablancas, Jr. almost all the time. Looks like they even share a police record for vandalism."

Suddenly, the incoming email tone chimes on her computer. "It's from Ryder." She reads it off to Mick. "He says that the police have released Logan after his lawyer's argued self-defense. It looks like all the charges might eventually be dropped. But the word out now is that his dad is going to be formally charged–for the murder of... Lilly Kane." She gasps, placing a hand over her mouth. "Oh god."

Mick stares at the news report and sighs. It was if his worst suspicions were coming true. "Tomorrow, we find this Casablancas kid and see what he'll tell us about Logan."

She nods, pushing the laptop away like it was a smelly piece of garbage. Her mind reeled at the host of new and horrible thoughts. _What had they gotten themselves into? And how was Josef involved?_

Leaning back into the bed, she pulls Mick with her as she wrapped herself in his strong, safe arms. Tonight, Beth didn't think she hates the silence quite so much.


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n- wow! Super impressed by the response so far! Trying to keep ahead on this story before putting out the chapters I have, but I thought I would go ahead and post this since I know you all can't wait for a little Dick. :) Enjoy, and if you like, please review. You know it's our crack.**

Good Times

Dick Casablancas loves to have a good time. A party, surfing, hanging out and playing video games. Girls. Anything, as long as it was fun. And he was wasted.

But what was happening to his friend was anything but fun. Dick would have to change that. Logan was his best friend and coolest guy he knew, and he wouldn't let this mess get to him. Not if he could help it.

He opens the door to his house to find a large guy in a black trench and black henley and a very attractive blonde in a grey jacket and jeans. He flashes his most 'fuck, you're hot!' smile at the blonde and she tilts her head. "Richard Casablancas?" She asks sweetly. The man at her side is unreadable behind his sunglasses, but he shifts uncomfortably.

"Dick."

"Huh?" She frowns.

"The name's Dick, babe. Are you wanting to speak to my dad?" He leans against the frame of the door in what he hopes is a seductive manner. Of course it is, it's worked for him before.

"Um. No." She says dryly. Dick doesn't even notice the note of disgust in her voice. "I guess you are who we wanted to talk to. Do you mind if we come inside?"

Dick's mouth twists in a wicked grin. "I don't mind coming inside, if you don't?"

She flushes and the man at her side glares down at him. He shrugs and backs up, letting them pass into the shadow of the front foyer. "So what's this about? The Dickster's been a good boy. For now." He waggles his eyebrows in her direction.

She frowns again, looks up at the man standing next to her, and shakes her head. "Teenagers," she mumbles. "We want to talk to you about a friend of yours... Logan Echolls."

Dick's playfulness suddenly flies away as he stiffens. "No comment. If you're here for a story, you can just get the hell out of my house." He's eyes the guy in black a lot more warily.

She smiles brightly. "I'm not here about a story, Mr. Casablancas."

"Dick," he corrects her again, still on edge.

She lets the smile widen. "Oh, okay. Dick. Um, my name is Beth Turner. This is Mick St. John." She motions to the large dude standing behind her. "He's a P.I. out of Los Angeles, looking into a missing person's case. I'm with the D.A.'s office."

Something about that name fires off a memory, but he can't quite pull it forward. Dismissing it, he relaxes, and gestures for them to sit. He takes a seat on a large, expensive leather recliner, flopping down ungracefully with his legs hanging over the arms. Beth and Mick sit politely opposite him on a soft cushioned sofa. "What's a missing person's case have to do with Logan?"

All morning, Beth and Mick had discussed how best to approach getting close to Logan. They both thought that telling anyone anything close to the truth was far too risky, not only to Logan, but to Josef as well. They needed to get to know the kid first. It was Beth who came up with the idea to bait his friends by accusing him of even more crimes. Beth knew from her experience as a reporter that people tended to spill a lot more when they were trying to defend someone than when you offer to help.

"We believe that a young lady named Clara was seeing Mr. Echolls at the time of her disappearance. We would like to know if you have any information about him which could help us locate her." Beth states.

Dick could feel his face growing red. "Are you saying that Logan kidnapped some chick?"

Mick speaks for the first time, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. His tone is direct and firm. "This girl could be in serious trouble. Now, we know with Mr. Echolls past and his recent legal issues–."

"Whoa, dude! Hold up. Logan hasn't done nothin'. And he would never, _ever_ hurt some chick." Dick swung himself out of the chair. "Besides, he hasn't had eyes for anyone besides Ronnie for months. And he wouldn't cheat. It's not his thing."

"Ronnie?" Beth asks, suddenly alert.

"_Veronica_ Mars," he supplies, rolling his eyes like everybody should know this. "His girlfriend. He's, like, all obsessive crazy about her. Personally, I think she's just a succupine."

Beth chokes a little. "A what?"

Dick puffs up his chest as he crosses his arms. "You know, a succupine. Evil, soul destroying hag."

Beth gapes at Mick in disbelief as he struggles to force his face back into it's usual hard stare.

"Uh, okay." She concedes.

Dick starts to pace around the room, anger rising at the thought of his friend suffering. "And whatever you've heard in the news about Felix is a total lie, dude. Logan's not like that. He would never kill someone. Those freakin' PCHers beat the shit out of him and left him for dead. They're the ones who you should be checkin' out."

Beth and Mick stand. Mick's voice softens, "Dick we just want to make sure everyone is safe." He raises the sunglasses and looks the teen straight in the eye. To his credit, the shaggy-haired blond doesn't flinch. But his anger does subside.

"Good. But it wasn't Logan. He wouldn't harm some girl–not after Lilly. Not after his mom," Dick lowers his eyes and his voice gets softer.

Beth steps forward and pats his arm. "Thank you, Dick. You've been a real help and a good friend."

Dick flashes her a wicked smile one last time. "I'd like to be your friend. Actually, babe, I'd like it if we were more than friends." He waggles his eyebrow at her.

Letting herself be amused by his completely unselfconscious behavior, she laughs and drags a scowling Mick to the door. "Does that ever really work for you, Dick?" She sees him shrug and grin. "Freakin' teenagers," she says again, shaking her head.

Watching the two of the them leave in a pretty sweet vintage Mercedes, Dick immediately phones Logan.

"Hey man. What's up? Looking to party? Cause if you are, I definitely in. Need to get the taste of prison food out of my mouth, if you know what I mean." Logan answers.

"Course, dude. Always. And guess what? I just met a killer blonde, definitely your taste." Dick smirks.

"Yeah? How killer?"

Dick can hear the amusement in Logan's voice. It has been way too long since it was there. A momentary indecision weighed on him. "_Deadly._ I think this one might be taken though. But she was super hot for an older chick. Lot's of 'tude. You know, she kinda totally looks like that chick on that website we used to fantasize about." His eyes roll back with the memory.

"Paris Hilton?"

"God, no! The chick with the rack that did all those crazy news stories." He can't actually remember the stories, but he remembers the rack.

"Um..." Logan pauses to think. He laughs as it comes to him. "Oh! You mean Beth Turner from Buzzwire?"

Dick pales. "Fuck! Seriously? Her name was Beth Turner? Fuck man! I knew it!"

Logan's tone sours. "What? What happened?"

"Dude, she totally lied to me. She told me she was with the D.A.'s office and she and this Matrix-looking dude were looking for some chick who you were seen with."

"Huh? Dick, you're making even less sense than usual. Did you let Beav buy your pot again?"

"No! Look, Beth Turner and some PI guy were just at my house asking questions about you and some missing chick. Um...her name was Sara or Clara or something. I don't know. They said you might have something to do with her disappearance."

"What did you tell them, Dick?" Logan's voice had gone cold and steely.

"Nothing, dude! I told them you would never hurt a girl and that you were totally wrapped around Ronnie's little finger anyway. They seemed to buy it. I just hope this wasn't some tabloid trick. You know how persistent those fuckers can be."

"Yeah. Did they say anything at all about my dad or Felix?"

"No, but I told them you had nothing to do with Felix's death." Dick swipes his hand across his bangs.

Logan is silent, clearly thinking. "I don't even know anyone named Sara or Clara. I haven't been with anyone but Veronica since that bitch, Caitlyn."

"Yeah, look man, I'm sorry." Dick paces the room again and nervously flips his hair.

"It's fine. I'll figure it out. Thanks for the heads up, though."

"Yeah," Dick mutters as Logan disconnects. He looks down at his feet. As if Logan's life couldn't get any worse. Now this? Logan needed to relax, de-stress. Have a good time. What he needed was a Casablancas-approved party. The bigger the better. Booze, girls,... some killer waves. All of Logan's favorite things. Dick grins, proud of himself and his brilliant ideas.


	5. Chapter 5

Secrets

Veronica hates secrets. Well, she hates other people's secrets. She was perfectly fine with keeping a few of her own.

Logan is keeping secrets. Far too many secrets. She didn't like that Logan was keeping something from her, although with the way she treated him before she discovered the truth about Lilly and Aaron, she guessed she couldn't blame him. Was that why she was with him now? To make up for all her accusations and hurt? They hadn't really talked about it. He had shown up at her apartment that night and she had tended to him, and they just sort of fell back into it without too much being said. So was their relationship built on guilt and pity? She didn't think so. Guilt alone wouldn't explain the way she felt when they kissed. The fire, the fluttering in her chest, the way the world stopped around them. Nope. Definitely no explanation for that. And before all this mess over Lilly, she had really wanted to give this thing between them a try. She still does, but Logan's holding back from her. He's not letting her in. Constantly torn between wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt and wanting to just sit him down and force the secrets from him, thoughts of him are driving her crazy.

She yawns and thrashes around on her bed, kicking off her covers. _Too damn hot in here._ She tries to close her eyes and rest her mind, but every time she does, she smells gasoline and hears Aaron's voice. And if it that wasnt bad enough, sometimes she also pictured her mother's anguished face as she kicked her out. Or Logan's desperate eyes the night she wiped away the blood and grit from the cuts on his face. With all that on a near endless loop, it wasn't any wonder that she hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep since it happened.

Tossing once more, she pulls up her comforter and readjusts her pillow. It was only just a little past nine at night, but she had decided to try to get in what rest she could. Tomorrow, she was supposed to go back to school to finish her exams, and she would definitely need all her strength to tackle that nightmare.

Unfortunately, her sleep, or lack thereof, was interrupted by a persistant knocking at the door. Dragging herself out of bed, she pads her way down the hallway to find Back-up cowering in a corner of the kitchen, hackles raised and ears forward. Furrowing her brow at the two shadowy figures framed by the glass of the doorway, she grabs her tazer and walks to the door. She's not exactly scared, a part of her realizes that if someone really wanted to harm her, they could have just broken the door in. _I mean,__ it's not exactly made of lead, _she realizes abrubtly_. _ But she is very wary of anyone just "popping by" for a chat this late at night, especially after the week she's already had. Her best guess is that some over-eager paparazzi are trying to catch her off guard for an exclussive. For the tenth time, she contemplates hiring someone to make sure they leave her alone.

She looks over at Back-up again and wonders what is going on with his behavior. "And you call yourself a guard dog," she mumbles to him. He tilts his head at her and stalks quickly out of the kitchen. Veronica turns her focus back on the door. Calling out from several feet away from the door, she says, "Um, it's a little late for an exclusive. Why don't you try scheduling it with my secretary. I'll give you her number." She opens the door a fraction, the chain still firmly in place, and mimes pulling a business card out of her shirt, "it's 1-555-kiss-my-ass." She smiles and steps back, making as if to shut the door in their faces.

The man and the women on her doorstep look quite bemused. Actually, only the man looks intrigues, the woman wears a blank mask of friendly casualness like she's not impressed by Veronica's sharp wit and keen bedtime fashion sense. _Ah, well, can't please everybody._ As the man chuckles, Veronica narrows her eyes at him. Clearing his throat a little he addresses her. "Um, hello. You must be Veronica Mars."

Veronica looks them over, sizing them up. The blonde woman is attractive, dressed conservatively in a grey blazer and jeans, and doesn't immediately strike her as paparazzi, but she had an air of pushiness and curiosity that only reporters truly possessed. For some reason, she feels immediately jealous of her. The man, though, is more difficult to catagorize. Very handsome, his broad frame and confident demeanor suggested law enforcement, but his long wavy hair and dark clothes were far too trendy and laid back. Plus, there was something else about him, something that speaks of a different era she just couldn't place. His expression reads friendly and open, but his grey eyes speak of something deeply hidden. This only fuels her curiosity. Maybe that's why she doesn't just tell them both they have the wrong address and to _please fuck off_.

She nods, but makes no move to allow them in.

The blonde woman opens her mouth, but the guy is who speaks first. "Veronica," his tone is cautious and gentle, "my name is Mick St. John. I'm a P.I. from LA" He flashes her his ID and she knows instantly that it's legit, after all, she's made enough fake ID's to go pro.

_A P.I.?_ No wonder this guy has such a authoritative-yet-cool vibe. Dad would probably love him. A ghost of a smile traces over her lips before her thoughts immediately turn dark as she remembers that her dad is in the hospital. And _why_ her dad is in the hospital. She barely registers that Mick is still speaking to her, until she hears Logan's name.

"Huh?" She frowns.

"I said we're following up a lead on case related to Logan Echolls. We were told you and he were friends. I thought you might be able to help us out."

_That's what I get for letting my guard down,_ she thinks sourly. "What do you want to know?" She growls.

"May we come in? I'd rather not have the paparazzi I had to chase off know what's going on."

She shrugs and raps her arms around her chest. "How many were there?"

He looks down at her, and sees her blue eyes dark with worry and sleep deprivation. "Not that many. Hopefully, I scared 'em off enough they won't try bothering you for at least another day or two." He says kindly.

She snorts. "Not likely. The paps in Neptune aren't quite as ruthless as in LA, but they are definitely part of the same gene pull of bottom feeding slime." She turns pointedly to the woman, hoping the meaning was clear.

Mick catches it and clears his throat. "Um, this is my friend, Beth Turner. She works for the D.A.'s office."

Veronica relaxes minisculy, but doesn't soften towards her. However, she does pick up on the intimate way they interact with each other and that puts her far more at ease than she would like to admit._ Definitely a couple. Married? No rings. Secret love affair? Too comfortable. Lovers? By George, I think you've got it, V. _ She unlatches the chain and swings the door open for them. Mick smiles at her frown for some reason, before Beth turns to him and glares briefly. Quietly, they enter the apartment and set up shop on her lumpy couch.

"We're here because we believe Logan might be in danger," he begins almost immediately.

Veronica tries to not react like he just punched her in the stomach. She laughs instead. "Yeah. Seems to be the special this week. But I think he can manage. Unless there is something new." Her pointed gaze fixes on Mick, then on Beth. _Why would the LA D.A.'s office be interested in Logan?_

"Possibly. Look, all we want to do is talk with him."

She shakes her head decisively. "No way. Not until you tell me what is going on." She leans against the kitchen island which intrudes into the living room. It's a calculated move that she hopes make her look like she's confident and in charge.

The blonde, Beth, slides her large messenger bag onto her lap and rifles through it for some papers. "We think he might be involved in a case we're working on in LA. A missing person's case."

Shifting uncomfortably, Veronica leans forward and takes the offered paper. It's a photo of a young, nondescript brunette." She shakes her head. "Am I supposed to know who this is?"

"Her name is Clara. She was last seen at a party in LA, leaving the scene with Mr. Echolls. We just want to know what happened after they left."

Something's off. Veronica can't exactly place it, but everything feels off. When would Logan have time to go to a party in LA? Why would he have left with some chick? Well, that part made sense, but the rest of the story? She stiffens and gives the paper back to Beth. "I'll pass word along, and have him get back to you." Her tone is icy and tinged with anger. "Do you have a card or something?"

Beth and Mick exchange worried glances. Clearly, this is not going how they'd hoped. Mick opens his mouth to speak, when there is a knock at the front door.

Veronica rolls her eyes and mutters, "Come on! Does no one respect the concept of business hours any more?" But she moves to answer the door anyway.

But before she gets there, the door is pushed open. Back-up comes bounding in from his hideout in her room and practically leaps onto the tall figure there. "Hey boy!" Logan laughs, pushing the pit bull gently down and stepping into the apartment. He sees her standing against the counter in the kitchen and his body relaxes briefly, before sensing something's up and tensing again. "Hey," he says gently, as if he's seeking her permission before entering.

Across the room, Beth noticeably gasps. In pictures and video, Joseph and Logan look fairly similar, but here, in person, the likeness is downright disturbing. The exact same tall, broad-chested stance, the same sharp nose, soft cheeks, and intense brown eyes. Only the clothing choices and hairstyle are different, and the fact that Logan is clearly only a kid. She tries to recover with a quick cough. Mick on the other hand, has a completely different reaction. It's like a visceral kick in the balls. The looks Mick can deal with, but there is something buried deep in this kid that Mick's vamp is reacts volatily to. Completely unsettled, he can't stop staring, straining with the effort to keep his vamp side reigned in.

Logan turns sharply to look at the two strangers on Veronica's couch, while she studies the tenseness of the posture of her two guests. "Okay. Seriously? What is going on here?" She switches her attention back and forth to the couple on her couch and the confused look on Logan's face. No one makes a move. She puts her hands on her hips and glares at Mick. "Someone better answer, and it better be the truth this time."

"You're Beth Turner," Logan says suddenly. His expression is hard to read, but his lip is curled curiously.

"You know her?" Veronica accuses, narrowing her eyes at him.

His dark eyes flash wickedly and his face flushes. He shrugs. "What? She's on Buzzwire. You know how much I love those trashy tabloid programs." The sarcasm isn't lost on her and she rolls her eyes at him. He might as well as come right out and said he thinks she's hot and he only watches that stupid tabloid rag because he wants to bang her. He smiles knowingly at her as if he read her thoughts and steps in closer, even as she pulls away. "Dick told me they stopped by his house. Asking questions." He offers as a way of apologizing.

"Well, isn't that great." Veronica says, turning her focus back on the other blonde in the room. "I thought you were with the D.A.'s office. So, are you here to get your big break by getting the real story of the Echolls family? Hoping to be able to get that co-anchor spot next to Matt Walker on LA Tonight? I've got to hand it to you, though, the PI angle...not bad. Solid 'A' for the effort. Maybe next time, though, you should try for a more realistic cover."

Flushed with anger, Beth says, "I've been with the D.A.'s office for about three months. I don't work for Buzzwire and this is not about a story."

"Fine. But you aren't telling me the truth. That 'missing girl' story," she emphasizes with air quotes, "is pretty lame. Logan hasn't been to LA for ages."

"What?" Logan asks, clearly confused.

Mick, who is still working to regain his balance, clears his throat and stands up. "Fine, Veronica. You're right. We aren't here about that. We made it up." He shrugs, pulling back his erratically shifting emotions. "Sorry. We just wanted a chance to talk to Logan."

Both of the teens tense up and the change in Logan is striking. Gone is the playful little boy and in his place is a hardened man, world weary and on guard. For a moment, Mick totally forgets he isn't Josef. "Why?" Logan asks cooly.

Mick steps forward, right up to Logan and takes him in. Smells his unique scent, listens to the even, strong beating of his very human heart. Even though Mick is nearly double Logan's size and he could break him like a twig, Logan never drops his gaze or looks the least bit intimidated. If anything, he seems amused by the potential threat. Mick doubts this kid has ever backed down from a fight in his life. Veronica notices that strange look in Mick's eye again and wanders about him again, her curiosity momentarily outweighing her indignation. At last, Mick breathes out and steps back. "Logan. We're here because we want to offer you our help with your case."

"Is this some sort of crappy intervention? Am I being punk'd?" Logan chuckles mercilessly. "Who the hell are you?" He stands protectively in front of Veronica and hugs his left arm with his right hand. His jaw clenches. "Actually, you know what? I'm good. So thanks for the offer and all, but if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my girlfriend alone. So, why don't you, like, get the fuck out."

Mick narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to reply, but suddenly Beth is tugging on his arm, pulling him away to the door. "Sure, no problem. Veronica, Logan, it was nice to meet you. I'm sorry we intruded on you at this hour." She digs into her messenger bag and produces a small business card which she hands off to Veronica. Logan is studying the hallway as if it is fascinating, but Beth doesn't miss the way his hands are tightly curled into a ball. "This has my number on it. If you should need us, we're at the Neptune Grand. I mean it. Call if there is a_nything_."

Veronica shrugs and tosses the card onto the island counter. "Nice to meet you, too. I'll _for sure_ call if we need your help with accusing someone of a bogus crime." The sarcasm drips from her lips like venom. She doesn't miss the quick wince she gets from the woman. The man, however, is still observing Logan like he wants to dissect him and Veronica tightens her grip around Logan's arm. "Goodnight." She says curtly, shutting the door on them.

Logan lets out a deep breath while simultaneously unclenching his fists. "What the hell was that all about?"

Veronica shrugs again and tries to shake of her apprehension. "I don't know, but I get the feeling it's not the last we'll see of them." Her mind already furiously working.

He pulls her into him, pressing her as close as he can without hurting her, and rests his head on top of hers. He doesn't say anything, though, just breathes her in and out, occasionally dropping a light kiss on her head. For about the millionth time, she is desperate to know what he is thinking, but can't bring herself to ask. Just before he lets her go, she thinks she hears him whisper, "I'm sorry." _What does he have to be sorry for? _She wonders again about Logan's secrets.

**a/n - Well, this one was really tricky to write and I'm not sure how well it came across. First meetings are always a bit tricky and I was trying to include a lot in a short space. I don't know how successful it was. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks to all my new and old readers and followers. You are the reason I love doing this!**


	6. Chapter 6

Expectations

Logan was everything and nothing like what Mick expected. Still uncomfortable with the feelings the kid brought out of him and unsure of what it means, he shifts his focus to the girlfriend.

Veronica. She was unexpected too. Sharp, smart and fierce. His favorite combination. Mick smiles lightly and pulls Beth over to him. She looks up at him curiously and says, "What?" But she's smiling like she knows the answer.

"We need to find out what Joseph wants us to do. I mean, it's already pretty weird that we're out here. I guess I was expecting..." he waves his hand vaguely "I don't know... I wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah." Beth nods. "He's so similar to Josef, you know, if Josef was an angsty teen with a really huge chip on his shoulder. But it's like he's got the same sort of..._presence_, I guess," she says, mostly to herself. "And that girlfriend? Whoa. I didn't think they came that cynical until at least college." She smiles up at Mick, but he is lost in his own thoughts.

They slide into Mick's car and head back for the apartment. Lost in thought, neither one really says much on the rest of drive. Finally, as they pull into the parking lot of the Neptune Grand, Beth breaks the silence. "How is this possible, Mick? Could Josef have a son? I mean, you told me that vamps can't have kids."

"We can't."

"But, he's not like a kid. I mean," she sighs, searching for the right words. "I mean, when you have a kid, it's not like they are your freaking twin."

"Yeah. It's like Logan is Josef's clone. Well, a clone with bleach-blond spikes and questionable fashion sense."

Beth's eyes go wide.

"No, I don't think Josef tried to clone himself," he counters quickly. "I mean, I know he loves himself, but not enough to duplicate himself, even if it was possible." Mick smiles.

Beth collapses and frowns. "Yeah. But what then? Random chance? The looks maybe could be explained, but the personality? That's just-."

Mick nods. He leads Beth through the hotel lobby, which is surprisingly busy for as late at night as it is. As they step onto the elevator, a statuesque, woman with long, dark hair slides inside at the last minute and pushes a button for the top floor. A solitary streak of grey courses down the front of her part, ending just below her shoulder blade, the only real indication of her age. Her satiny, red dress hugs so tightly to her body, Beth can see the indent of her belly button. The woman glances at the couple, dark almond eyes lingering over Mick for far too long, and smiles wickedly. Mick tries to hide his laughter at the daggers Beth throws at the woman. When the door for their floor opens, the woman leans forward and brushes against Mick's arm. Her perfume is a strange mix of darkly exotic spices he's not sure he's ever smelled before. It's undeniably captivating. She flashes him a small card and says seductively, "The name's Lana. If you get bored with your appetizer, and decide you'd like to try the main course_,_ you're welcome to give me a call." She winks and the door slides closed between them before Mick can respond. A small shiver runs through him and he is unsure why. Maybe it was the way she offered herself to him or the way she looked at him. But a cold, sick dread settles into his stomach. Mick glances at the card, and stares at the elevator door far long than he should have.

"You're joking!" Beth shouts angrily.

He's so fixated on what is written on the card, he momentarily forgets about Beth. In tiny, perfectly formed script, it reads: _Lana Montgomery. 909-555-0101_. Nothing else. He shivers again, and tries to pull himself out of it.

Beth has already stormed off for the room, and Mick hurries to catch up with her. He pushes the door open with one hand and sees her furiously throwing her things into her suitcase.

"Beth, stop." He says gently. Her grip on her dress shirt is tight enough to leave permanent wrinkles, but she doesn't look up. He moves towards her, slowly. "Please. I'm sorry. It's not what you think."

He can hear the way her heart rate settles and the hitch in her breathing. He knows she's listening. Upset, but listening. "I'm sorry, it didn't mean anything. She just caught me off guard." He offers again, this time pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up tight.

One of the things that Mick actually enjoys about being a vampire is that he can feel the moment Beth forgives him throughout his entire body. It starts with a small, whispered sigh, which to him feels as if she has breathed herself onto his soul. Then, the fight goes out of her muscles and her whole body becomes soft and pliable. It's the most glorious thing he's ever felt.

She looks up at him, her blue eyes stunningly sharp from the unshed tears. "What happened then?"

"I don't know," he's says as honestly as he can. "Something felt off about the whole thing. But I swear to you, it's nothing. Okay?"

Her breathing has gone back to it's normal baseline and she hugs him tighter. "Yeah. Okay." Miraculously, she drops the subject, choosing to believe him. "You should call Josef. I'm going to get the ice."

She tosses him a look, as he takes out his phone, and grabs the ice bucket by the bed. He watches her go and kept help the smile playing about his face. It's the small things she does for him, like knowing he needs a tub full of ice to be comfortable, that make his heart swell with love for this frail, perfect blonde.

He sighs and dials Josef's number. It's answered on the second ring, telling Mick that Josef has probably been driving himself crazy waiting for news. "Well, do I need to start looking at the real estate in Sri Lanka or do you have some good news to report." Josef says.

Mick can hear the worry behind the sarcasm and so he doesn't waste any time. "I don't think you need to worry about packing just yet. But things are definitely getting interesting down here."

"Interesting like Brittany shaving her head or interesting like all of my Tokyo competitors being wiped out by a tsunami?"

"Try 'aliens bringing Elvis back from the dead'."

"Ah. Should I grab my camera for a photo op?"

Mick hesitates. He knows Josef wants to come check out the kid for himself, but the icy, suspicious reception he and Beth received didn't bode well for any sort of 'family bonding,' if that was what this was about. Especially not with Josef's ego in the mix. "Um, I think you should stick to covering the business section for now."

"Sure, whatever," he responds indifferently, but Mick could swear he can hear a twinge of disappointment.

"Hey, I don't think there's much here that will affect you. I mean. It's really pretty straight forward. Except for the whole doppleganger thing. That's...um...unusual. But the kid doesn't know anything. And this mess he's in...it's probably going to blow over within a week. I think you can rest easy knowing your billions are safe."

Josef hesitates before answering. "Okay. Great. You and Beth come on back then if you think this will just all fade away."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mick knows he needs to proceed carefully. "Look, Josef. Here's the thing. Truth is, I don't really know what is going on. The kid's a dead ringer for you. And then there's this _vibe_ he gives off. Not a scent exactly, but a _feeling_. I've never experienced anything like it. The vamp in me almost wanted to rip the kids throat out for no reason." Mick shakes his head, still working through the scattered state of his emotions.

"Why Mick, how unlike you?" Josef quips, but Mick can hear the fear in his voice.

"Tell me about it. I talked it over with Beth and we think it's best if we stay here and investigate. She's already given Talbot some lame excuse about a dead relative. But I think you need to keep the hell away from this one. I don't know how any of this is possible and it totally freaks me out. Is there anything you haven't told me? Do you know of any way this could happen?"

There's a long, pregnant pause and Mick is absolutely certain Josef is going to drop some sort of bomb on him like _Surprise Mick! Vamps can have kids after all! _That's probably why it takes him a minute to process what Josef actually says.

"Um, magic?" He laughs lightly, but there is an undercurrent of sincerity to it that has Mick questioning his sanity.

"Are you serious?"

"No. Well, not entirely. But, hey man, we're vampires. It's not completely outside the realm of possibility. I've seen some pretty unbelievable stuff, you know."

"Magic though? Like 'pull a rabbit out of a hat' or more like 'fairies and pixie dust'?"

Josef actually laughs at that. "No!" He weezes for a second before reigning himself in. "Think witches."

And just like that, Mick's stomach turns again. "Witches? You think...really?"

"Yeah. They can do some pretty heavy-duty tricks, man."

"Really? Fuck."

Josef chortles again. "Look, I'm not saying it is that. I'm just saying it is possible. As possible as any other option."

Mick takes a deep breath, before asking his next question. "Tell me why witches would make a clone of you then?"

"My devastatingly handsome looks? Not enough of me to go around?"

"Be serious."

"I make a lot of enemies. Who knows? I don't recall purposely trying to piss any witches off, but..."

"Great. Just great. Are you sure this isn't some weird vamp thing? Like the plant Coraline used to become human? Maybe there's something that takes your DNA or whatever and grows a whole new you. A way for vamps to reproduce after all."

Mick can hear Josef's shudder over the phone. "God, I hope not. One of me is more than enough for this world. Can you just imagine me having to do a hostile take over with myself? We'd burn the corporate world to ash."

"I doubt it would be _j__ust_ the corporate world." Mick replies grimly.

Josef sighs. "Fine. You and Beth stay there as long as you need to, but just deal with it. And keep me informed if you think that some young upstart is going to make a play for my money."

Mick smiles, despite himself. "Sure. Will do." And hangs up the phone.

Meanwhile, Beth has made about ten trips to the ice machine, which thankfully was only about two doors down, and now has the tub semi-full of ice. "What did he say?" She asks.

Mick grabs her around her waist playfully and growls into her ear. "Can you imagine a world with two Josef's in it? Scary." He fake shivers.

She slaps at him. "Don't change the subject."

Mick lets her lean back a bit and he studies the way her cheeks are flushing and her eyes are raking over his chest. "He suggested magic."

She struggles and squirms. "I mean it. Stop changing the-."

"No, that's really what he said. Witches using magic."

She smiles and swats at him. "Really? You might as well say Logan was hatched from an egg. My money is on a group of scientists in an underground lair in the desert using vampire DNA to clone a race of super soldiers."

Mick is stunned. "Wow. You've really thought about this."

She laughs and throws her head back. "No, but I have watched a lot of bad sic fi thrillers."

He nuzzles her gently.

"Witches." She shakes her head in disbelief. Pulling herself in closer to him, she rests her head against his shoulder and breathes him in. "Just when I thought I had a handle on the whole vampire thing..."

"I think he was probably just joking. He seems pretty freaked out. Well, as freaked out as Josef gets." He swings her around until the both end up lying on the bed.

As he begins to run his hands down her body and kiss at her neck, she pushes back briefly, "So what are we supposed to do? Hunt down the local coven in Neptune and ask them why they created Kostintine's monster?"

Mick actually snorts against the side of her neck. "No. I think for now, we just keep an eye on the kid and help get this whole murder thing resolved so he stays out of the news."

"So...babysitting, then?"

"Mmmhmmm," he growls into her chest, slowly peeling away the cottony fabric from her skin. "Yep. An easy job for once. I mean, how much trouble can the kid get into?Maybe we can turn this into a vacation after all. And Uncle Josef's footing the bill. Maybe I'll take you out on the town one of these nights, really go crazy."

Her eyes flash dangerously dark at him. "Mmhmm. Or maybe we could just stay in." She replies, and deftly removes his belt. So soft he almost misses it, she whispers into his ear, "You know, your ice is going to melt."

**a/n- Woohoo! Got this one done faster than I expected. Hoping to get the next chapter up soon as well. It has MAC! After that, I will be out of town for a few days so updates might take a while. Keep reviewing, though, maybe I'll post TWO chapters before I go *maniacal laughing in the background***


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n- Had a lot of fun writing this chapter, cause I love all Mac/Logan interaction. Hope you guys love it, too. Love to hear what you think!**

Introductions

"Come on, Veronica. What are we doing?" Logan asks in that petulant 5-year-old way that only he can.

She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head. _This again? _"I told you. We need to find out more about those two." She was almost to the car door of his X-terra before he grabbed her by the arm.

"Stop, Veronica! You don't need to do this. We've got enough to worry about as it is." He tries to stare her down with those dark, hazel eyes of his, but she isn't moved. Instead, she tries not to notice how the early afternoon sunlight is turning the fading highlights in his hair into a rich, coppery gold. It's not any easier to forget about the greenish-yellow bruises dotted across his forehead and cheekbones, or the jagged, pink cuts just below his hairline. She opts for looking at his shoes. That seems neutral enough.

"I _know_ that. Don't you think I don't? But I really don't want any more surprises. I need to find out what they are here for." She shrugs off his hand from her arm and points at him. "I thought you'd be more suspicious. I mean, they came here falsely accusing you of a kidnaping."

His jaw tenses. "I know. Add it to the list."

Still worked up, she continues, "And then they claim to just want to help? What's with that? I need to find out what they are up to."

He gives a little and sighs. " Look, I'm not saying I trust them. Actually, I'm pretty sure I feel the opposite of that. Incertitude maybe? Dubiosity? Skepticism? All I do know is that if there is any sort of danger involved, I don't want you to go poking around."

Deep, _deep_ down, she knows he means well, but he's made her angry and she feels a little like lashing out. She wishes she knew why it was so much easier for her to yell at him than to be just sigh and say O_kay, honey, I'll play nice_. Maybe the fighting is all their relationship really is. "You don't want me poking around? Really? But you wanted me to help you out of your little snafu with the police a few days ago. That's what you want? For me to help you out when it's convenient for you? A little PI whore at your beck and call?"

"Dammit, Ronnie! That's not what this is about." His eyes burn into hers and she's thankful he's no longer holding onto her arm. It would probably burn as well. There's at least a minute of silence from him as he studies her expression and formulates his approach. She's ready for a verbal blow-up from him at the least.

Unexpectedly, his whole body just collapses. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you what you can and can't do. I just thought," he sighs deeply and runs his hand through his hair, spinning away from her, so that she barely hears what he says next, "I just thought that with everything else, you were owed a little peace and quiet. You've got exams to finish and your dad's still in the hospital. And now this? I hate that I got you involved with my crap. With my family's crap. You know I have a huge target on my back because of this Felix thing, right?" He mimes pulling a bow and arrow and shooting it right into his heart. He drops his eyes to the ground and mutters, "You've been through too much. You deserve better than this."

_Who is this Logan standing in front of her and what did he do with the sarcastic jackass he's been all year? _It's such a tender and honest sentiment, the fight drains right out of her. "Oh, Logan," she sighs, and places her hand gently on his arm, so that he turns back to her. "This crap you're in is mine, too. You can't protect me from it. I'm a target too because of what happened with Aaron, and I did that all on my own. So don't you dare feel bad about that! What he did..." she gulps, unsure whether she can or even should continue, "...what he did to Lilly... to you...it is _not_ your fault."

Underneath her hand, she can feel the way his arm trembles and she knows how much guilt he has racked up against himself. "Logan, I know I've said this before, but I am truly sorry about what happened to you. And what I did. You didn't deserve-"

He stops her with a kiss. Hard, passionate, fiery. And all the guilt and fear and insecurity goes away. She's breathing hard, panting against his firm chest, when he breaks away. Stroking her hand in the softest of gestures, he says, "Fine. We'll do it your way."

She knows he can see the contented look in her eyes, and she makes no move to hide it from him. "Good," she replies.

...

"Hello, Mrs. Mackenzie. Is Mac home?"

The middle-aged housewife who answers the door smiles down at Veronica pleasantly. Then, she looks at Logan and her face falls, as if trying to place where she knows him from. A second later, she recovers and smiles politely at the young man on her doorstep. "Sure, Veronica. She's in her room." Veronica is thankful that Mac's parents aren't the news obsessed type, and vaguely she remembers that Mac and her family had been out of town all last weekend, camping, and have missed the shocking events that come with living on a gateway to Hell. Either that or they are choosing to ignore them to be polite. Probably the latter._  
_

As they approach Mac's room, she can hear upbeat techno music blasting behind the door. Veronica glances at Logan who looks bemused and thoughtful, studying the family photos on the hallway wall. She pulls him forward before his thoughts can stray into dark and dangerous territories, and knocks on Mac's door.

One look at Veronica and Mac's eyes go wide. "Veronica? What are you doing here?" She hisses, pulling both of them inside her room and securing the door. She suddenly seems to notice Logan and her mouth actually hangs open before rapidly covering her pj'ed self with her arms. "Why is he here? At my house? Did I win the school's "Awkward Date with a Psychotic 09er" Award or something?"

Logan stares at the strange, blue haired girl for a beat before a huge grin spreads out across his face. "Not unless you fight Ronnie for it. Actually that's a good idea. Go ahead," he waves an arm towards them before affecting a casual pose against the far wall, "whenever your ready. Do you want me to referee or anything?"

Mac stares blankly at Logan, completely unsure what to say.

Veronica glares at him and holds up a hand. "Look, Mac, I need your computer kung fu. I need to crack into some security footage from the Neptune Grand."

"Oh. Okay." She nods, looking relieved. For the first time, she seems to notice the slight bruises covering Veronica's arms and face and the similar ones on Logan and makes a point to look elsewhere. She had only talked to Veronica briefly since the whole 'Aaron' thing, and the reality of it all is just now setting in. "Hey, how are you, by the way? I haven't gotten a chance to ask you since..."

Veronica shrugs. "Fine. Little bit crispy around the edges. But it's over, you know. Well, I mean, until the trial." She doesn't know why she's telling Mac this, especially with Logan standing there staring at her like she's made of eggshells. "I'm just glad I finally know the truth, as awful as that actually is." She can't bring herself to look at Logan's face, because if she does, she knows he'll see right through her and she doesn't think she can handle it.

"Okay," Mac offers. She fumbles around, also avoiding Logan's intense stare, because what on earth could she possibly say to_ him_, and heads for her desk with the pile of random computer equipment, cords, and various blinking boxes. "What exactly do you need me to do?"

Veronica takes a breath and smiles. This. This is why she loves Mac. No awkward hugs, no false pity, no '_Do you want to talk about it?'_ Just down to business. "I need you to hack into the feed to the Grand's security cameras for the last couple of days. We're trying to get some intel on a couple that's staying there."

Mac nods. "Sure. Probably take me about an hour or so, depending on how secure their system is. You can, um, just-," she looks around at the state of her disorganized room, "wait here. I guess."

Logan's demeanor changes again as he nonchalantly hops on top of Mac's _Firefly_ bedspread and smiles at her sincerely. He pats the corner with his hand and flashes Veronica a wicked smirk. "Come on, snookums, Mac's bed is super comfy."

Even though her head is spinning from the crazy way he shifts personalities, she's pretty grateful for the way he is making Mac feel less embarrassed about her room. She joins him on the bed, but resists the urge to snuggle into his side. After all, they have an audience.

Veronica ends up spending the time trying not to hover over Mac as her fingers fly over the keyboard and crazy blurred lines of code flash across the screen. She also tries not to watch Logan as he randomly picks up knickknacks around Mac's room and throws them in the air as if testing their weight, before stilling to exam the wall of geek chick posters. If she's honest, she's surprised he managed to sit patiently for as long as he did. She can tell he's not bored exactly, but his patience is wearing thin, and she can see by the way his mouth presses together in a thin line that his earlier thoughts are starting to drift back in. She wants to stop him, but there's not anything much she can say or do with Mac in the room. She also really hates how she knows exactly what he is thinking, almost as if they share a direct line into one another's thoughts. Domesticity never sits well with him for long. Especially now.

"Okay. You're in." Mac says, showing her the computer monitor where the screen is filled with black and white footage of the Grand's hotel lobby, elevator, front entrance, and staff entrance.

Veronica squeals a little, causing Logan to chuckle at her, and hugs Mac. Mac stiffens and pats her arm awkwardly. "Ohhhkaay? Um, you're welcome?" She slides out of Veronica's reach and allows her to sit at the desk chair. Logan steps over and peers at the screen where Veronica is scanning through the recorded video.

He tilts his head at Mac. "So, you do this a lot?"

Mac frowns. "What? Girl hugs? No."

He shakes his head. "The computer stuff, Steve Jobs. What are you? CIA, FBI, SSS?"

"SSS?"

Logan's lips curl into a smile, "Short and super smart."

Mac blinks and then, suddenly she's smiling, too. "Did you just compliment me?"

"Compliments? Me?" He affects an innocent face and points an accusatory finger at her. "You can't prove anything and I'll deny it to my grave."

She blushes and turns back to watch Veronica's progress. This is a side of Logan she has never _ever_ seen and it's causing her to question her tightly held beliefs that 09ers were all selfish assholes. _Okay, so maybe this is what Veronica sees in him._

"Yahtzee!" Veronica exclaims, having been completely oblivious to the exchange going on behind her. She points to the right corner of the screen that shows the elevator feed. Inside, the dark haired PI and his blond friend are riding in the car. Another passenger, a typical, black-haired call girl judging by her skin tight dress, rides in front. "So, they were at least telling the truth about staying at the Grand." She says, slowly forwarding the video. She sees the doors open and the blonde exits. Mick is following but is stopped by the other woman. "Well, well." She states. "And I thought he and Beth seemed sort of...couple-y...but it looks like he's trying to score with that 'bimbo of the week'."

She looks up at Mac who just shrugs impassively. But then she sees Logan and her body goes cold.

He's standing there, eyes wide, and hugging himself. Almost the same as when he showed up at her door looking to find his mother. He blinks rapidly, as if pulling himself up out of water.

"Logan?" Veronica says softly. "What is it?"

"Well, looks like its a true Echoll's family reunion after all."

Whirling back to the screen, she points to the lady Mick is talking to. "Wait! You know that woman?"

Shivering slightly, Logan nods. "She's my...she's Aaron's first wife."

"Why is she talking to Mick and Beth?"

Logan frowns, and shrugs his arms around him.

"What aren't you telling me?" Veronica asks, but he fails to look her in the eye. He's shut off again, and she's starting to get annoyed.

Realizing she won't get Logan to talk, especially not in front of Mac, Veronica decides to finish watching the video. She watches Mick's interaction with the woman carefully, watches her hand him a card. _Is she propositioning him? Slipping him information? I need to find out what is going on._ Then, she sees Beth. Sees Beth fuming and angry. Veronica smiles. _That is a look of a woman scorned. Perfect_.

"Come on, Logan." She says, pushing him toward the door, noticing uncomfortably how solid he is even when he looks like a strong wind might knock him down.

As he goes, she turns to Mac who looks confused and worried. "Hey, thanks for your help, Mac. I'll call you soon."

Veronica watches Logan shuffle out the door in a daze. Mac stops her before she can follow. "Are you really okay?'

She smiles brightly, hoping it looks as convincing as she's trying to make it. "Sure, you know me, I take a licking and keep on kicking ass."

This pulls a smile from a reluctant Mac, who then nods towards the door. "How about him? This whole thing is pretty messed up. I mean, I thought my situation was a big deal..." She goes silent. "I can't imagine."

Veronica sighs. "Yeah." She can't picture what's going through Logan's head right now either. She's not even sure she wants to. And then, like a ton of bricks, the weight of it all suddenly hits her again, almost knocking out her knees. Reaching over, she steadies herself on the side of the desk. _He was right, i__t's too much. And he needs too much from me._ _Damnit! _Taking a deep breath, Veronica pulls herself upright before Mac notices her weakness. She can't back down, not now. _You are Veronica Mars! Logan needs your help and that is what you do! So, stop whining and go help him._

"Thanks again, Q." Veronica says softly, forcing the smile once more and reaching for the bedroom door.

"Anytime, Bond." Mac answers sincerely.

...

Logan is pacing around the driveway in front of his X-terra, looking like he's lost deep in thought. He doesn't even notice when Veronica slips his keys out of his hand and jumps up into the driver's seat. She honks the horn, causing him to jump and see her for the first time.

She leans over to the passenger window and shouts, "Get in, or I'm leaving you here," with a smile on her face. She's doing her best to keep it light and praying it works.

It seems to, and he returns her smile, even if it doesn't get remotely near his eyes. "You sure you don't need some phone books to sit on? Maybe a booster seat?" He says as he buckles himself into his car. For some reason, the thought of her driving his jeep seems to be more amusing than terrifying to him in this circumstance. At any rate, it's a welcome distraction.

"You know what they say about large, garish-colored vehicles and your manhood, right?" She fires back, adjusting his mirrors deliberately.

"That's only for sports cars and people approach their forties. Besides, my vehicle reflects my enormous _personality_." He winks suggestively at her.

Laughing, she fiddles with the a/c and the electric seat, relishing in how uncomfortable it's making him. "I don't think they make a car big enough for your ego to fit inside." She tilts her head. "You know, on second thought, I think this yellow monstrosity is perfect for you." She rubs her hands along the leather-lined steering wheel, and revs the accelerator, noticing the agitated rumble Logan makes in his chest. "It's all flash. Style over substance." She hasn't even left Mac's driveway and all of his presets are a mess.

With a faked, shocked look, he smooths his hands along the dash. "Shhh, baby, she didn't mean it." He glares at her. "Says the girl with the barely street legal tin can. Did you manage to get your pal Weevil to give you the proceeds from the scrap heap he sold it to?"

"Hey! I loved that car." She pouts. "And for your information, Weevil's fixing it."

A stillness hangs in the air. A line had been crossed without either of them realizing it. It was like any hint of "That Night" was enough to suck the life out of both of them. Veronica decides now is a good time to drive them back to her apartment.

After several miles of uncomfortable silence, Logan dips his head, and stares up at her earnestly. "She hates me," he says, almost so quiet she doesn't catch it.

"What? Who hates you?"

"Lana. I mean, she loathes Aaron as well, but I'm pretty sure she has always blamed me for their split."

Veronica stares at him aghast. "How? What could you have had to do with it? You weren't even born until well after their divorce, right?"

He shrugs and turns back to look out the window, slouching down into the seat and propping his feet up on the glove box. "I don't even know why. Just every time I would see her, she would just look at me, like, I don't know, like I was the devil or something. She's Trina's mom, you know. I mean, not her real mom, but Trina thinks of her that way. She basically dumped her on Aaron after the divorce came through, so I don't know why Trine has such a soft spot for her. But it was like no one else could be her mom."

Veronica thinks back to their childhood, how Trina would talk to Lynn like she was just Logan's mom and not the woman who had been raising her practically her whole life. It had never made much sense at the time, but Veronica was never really close enough with Trina to really care about it one way or the other.

"Well, that actually explains a lot. When was the last time you saw her, Logan?" She tries to keep one eye on him to gage his mood, but it's hard when she has to steer his boat, too.

"On and off when I was really young. She would come by to check on Trina, birthday's and Christmas mostly. Mostly she would just show up at places randomly and make a spectacle of herself at Aaron or my mom's expense. The last time though...was probably when I was about twelve. Right before we moved here." His eyes darken to the color of coal and a chilling darkness hangs over his handsome features. Lost in the whirlpool of his memories, he quakes when he speaks. "She was sitting in the hospital lobby, reading a magazine. It was right after one of the worst times he..." His voices cracks and he licks his lips before he can continue. _Worst times?_ She thinks, then it hits her. _Oh. God._ "Anyway, she just looked at me with my arm in a cast, my face all bruised up, and she smiled. I remember thinking that I had never seen her look happier."

Veronica pales and shivers, making a quick decision to pull his vehicle over, cutting the engine. She turns to him and carefully takes one of his hands in hers. His hand is ice cold, but there is sweat across the palm. She decides not to say anything, to wait him out until he was ready. What was there to say to make it better or easier anyway?

His whole body shudders and like a flip of the switch, he's back to his old self, half smiles and warm guarded eyes. "Hey, sorry about that. Some family, huh? We should all come with warning label. _Caution: Contents are radioactive and severely fucked up_."

"Logan," she says, careful to step out each word like she's walking through a mine field. "Never, ever, apologize for telling me about your past. I want to know. I want to do what I can to make it better for you."

He brushes a hair over her ear, so close to her face now she can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. "I know, sugarpuss. But some things you just can't fix."

She clenches her jaw, willing her frustration back. Part of her wants to scream at him and tell him _Logan, you are not broken! You are not like them! _ And part of her just wants to climb into his lap and strip them both naked and forget all their problems in a torrent of sheer bliss.

She does neither of these things. Instead, she opts for a quick, shaky peck on his cheek as she reaches back to start up the car.


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n- Hey! I'm back. Thank you to all my new followers and reviewers. You guys are the best! I'd love to hear from you how you feel about the story so far, the characterizations, the dialogue, any of it. In the meantime, I hope to have another chapter up soon after this. Can't wait for you to read them!**

Conversations

Exiting the doors of the Neptune Grand, Beth Turner takes in the bright, burnt gold light of the late afternoon sun. Between her case load at the DA's office and spending her nights with Mick, it seems like ages since she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of sun on her skin.

She had left a note for Mick about going out to get something to eat. He was still asleep in the ice-filled tub and she knew he would want to feed when he woke. Her steps, sure and steady a moment before, falter slightly as she thinks about him. He was still acting so guarded about her watching him feed. Most days, she shrugged it off as one of his self-loathing vamp quirks, but the way he was so secretive about it sometimes made her wonder what other things he was hiding from her. Although their relationship had gotten progressively more physical these last few weeks, he was still so careful with her, it was starting to get annoying. Some days, she really wished he would just pin her up against the wall and _bite_ her already. _Well,_ she smiled faintly, resuming her easy pace, _bite me as he's coming inside me._ Her entire body feels flushed and it's not from the intensity of the sunlight. Maybe she needs to be more direct with him as to what she wants. Really spell it all out for him. _Mick, I want you to let loose a little, get a little rough. I want you to make me feel alive. _Her mind wanders over the fantasy as she strolls toward the restaurant district of Neptune.

Finding herself at a small café, she selects a red wine and a small steak. Suddenly, someone slipped into the empty chair across from her. A rather small, very blonde, someone.

"Veronica?" Beth asked. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay with Logan?"

The girl nods solemnly and steeples her hands in front of her. "I know your secret." She says in a completely faked hushed whisper. She even darts her eyes for emphasis.

Beth tries not to let the startled look show. Her mouth goes dry, though, as she tries to speak. "What secret? I'm an open book." _How could she possibly know about Mick? Oh god, does she know about Josef? _She can feel the creeping rise of panic in her limbs. Just who was this girl?

When Beth was younger, to combat the post kidnapping nightmares, her parents signed her up for horseback riding therapy. She loved horses. Riding them made her feel powerful and in charge. There she was, a small frail girl, and this large, towering beast was completely at her command. It was an intoxicating sensation. She could gallop and cantor and trot and run with the best of them. Never had she felt freer, more sure of herself.

But when it came to the jumping, all her courage fled. Time and time again she would lead the horse up to the polls, only to divert it at the last second. Then, upon seeing her do this one too many times, her instructor, a kindly old man with golden, wrinkled skin and a long white beard, took notice. With a warm, reassuring hand upon the horse's flank, he asked her, "Beth, why can't you jump? Are you afraid? "

She tilted her head down so she didn't have to meet the man's knowing eyes, and her helmet slipped down over one ear. "i'm scared because," she hitched her tiny chest searching for the answer, "what if the horse trips and falls?" Visions of rearing horses and crushed bones float through her mind. The instructor smiled and adjusted the straps to her helmet as he said, "If you are scared, the horse will know and he will fall," he states with a frank tone. Her eyes grow wide with shock. "But," he continues with another pat to the horses neck, "if you believe _you_ can jump the hurdles, then the horse will as well. The trick is to keep looking ahead as if the poles aren't even there." He swatted the back of the horse's rump lovingly like they were old friends and flashed her a tender smile.

That day Beth jumped two small hurdles. The next, she was blowing over them as if they never existed in the first place.

It's a lesson Beth learned well, especially when dealing with situations like this. Beth sits back cooly in her chair, her face a composed mask of calm.

"You're in love." Veronica states directly, picking up a breadstick and chewing happily on the end. She kept her light blue eyes trained innocently on Beth. _God, she's tough. No, scary. That's what she is. _And following closely after, a strange fleeting thought. _Josef would LOVE her._

Inwardly, Beth breathes a sigh of relief. _She doesn't know about Mick or Josef._ Outwardly she continues to sip her water politely and smiles. "Sure. So what?"

"Well," Veronica leans forward and puts her chin on top of her laced fingers, "I bet if you thought your man was cheating on you, you'd want to get even."

Beth nearly chokes on the water, so she sets it down carefully. "Where is this coming from?"

The teen grabs another breadstick and leans back into the seat, looking pleased for some reason. "I just thought you might like to know who it was that Mick was chatting up last night."

There are very few things that truly surprised Beth anymore. Not since learning that the man she loves was a vampire, and that he had saved her life when she was just a kid and was abducted by another vampire in an attempt to make her a part of a psycho vampire family. But this, coming from such an unassuming young girl, this floored her. "How-?"

Veronica waves away the question. "I have a guy. Well, a girl actually. Not important. Look, all you need to know is that woman in the elevator, I don't think it was a coincidence that she was there and gettin' friendly with your PI-on-the-side. In fact, I think something really, really big is going on. And I think you know more than you are letting on." She leans forward again, her eyes so startlingly bright, they shine all on their own, and says, "Here is what is going to happen. You're going to tell me the truth about why you and Mick are here. And I mean _all_ of the truth. Trust me, I know when people aren't being honest. Then, I'll tell you what I know about that woman."

_Again, who the hell is this girl?_ Taking a moment to consider her options, she studies her. Cute, short, dressed like a punk rock Barbie. How would she handle knowing the truth? She's fierce and smart, the smallish bruises on her cheeks and forearm are proof of that, but she's stubborn, and deeply mistrustful. There's no way she could hand the "Mick's a vampire, but it's okay because he doesn't kill anyone' revelation. Not to even mention the whole 'your boyfriend has a clone who is a 400-year-old vampire billionaire business tycoon' thing. Sometimes she's not even sure how she manages to feel sane. Slowly, she shakes her head. "Sorry, no deal."

The girl pouts, _actually pouts_, and sighs. "Oh, well, in that case, I guess I should just warn you that when I will find out what you're hiding, and I will find out, I plan on doing whatever I have to do to keep Logan safe." She flashed Beth a 50 megawatt smile and batted her lashes innocently.

"Look, Veronica," Beth says as calmly as she can manage, "we aren't here to cause problems. We're just..." How could she possibly explain this without spilling out the truth. _More lies? Sure, why not._ Especially ones wrapped in a truth package with a big truth bow. It would probably be the only way to get her to stop poking around. "Okay, here's the thing," she lowers her voice and whispers, "I'm not allowed to say anything directly, but if you think this woman we met might be a problem, than I will tell you why we are really here."

Veronica raises her eyebrow, and leans forward conspiratorially, "Spill it, chicky."

"Our client, who, I'm afraid, must remain nameless, is a...sort of distant relative of Logan's. He heard about what happened here and has taken an interest in his case. That's all. He wants to make sure Logan isn't in any real trouble." _ That should satisfy her. _

Veronica snorts, her lips curled into a sneer. "So getting framed for murder isn't "real" enough for you? Who is it? I didn't know he had any one left."

Startled by Veronica's sudden anger, she shakes her head. _Oh no. Did I just totally make everything worse?_ "Sorry, absolutely can't tell you that. But our job here is pretty much over. I mean, Logan's going to be fine. The Sheriff's Department is dropping the murder charges, right? It's over. We just came to make sure."

Crossing her arms, Veronica sits up rigidly. "Do you realize that Logan is alone in all this. Like, _alone_ alone. There is no one in this town who gives a crap whether he lives or dies." She shakes her head. "Tell your client that if all he's good for is keeping watch, he might as well get his updates on the evening news with the rest of them." She pushes her chair back to stand.

Beth holds out her hand. "Veronica, wait. It doesn't matter about that, what matters is that you care. And we both want the same thing here. Please, tell me about that woman." She pleads.

"Her name is Lana."

Beth nods. "I know, she gave Mick her card. It said Lana Montgomery."

Veronica shakes her head. "Maybe now, but it used to be Lana Echolls."

As the food Beth ordered arrives, she barely notices.

Veronica continues as though the interruption never occurred. "She was Aaron's first wife. They were married about four years before Logan was born. Apparently, Aaron dumped her when he met Lynn, Logan's mom, and Lana was not very happy about it. Like, 'psycho stalker' not happy. Logan says he hasn't heard or seen her in years, but the fact that she's back now...it's not good. Especially for him. He claims that she blames him for the split for some strange reason." She frowns and looks away. "I tried finding out about her. But it's all a brick wall. Someone has wiped her slate clean. Only the basic stuff about her marriage to Aaron is left." Her frown deepens. "Do you know what she wanted with Mick?"

Beth shakes her head. "No, she just handed him that card and told her to call, you know, 'for a good time' or whatever." She hugs herself as if the daylight had become cold.

Veronica narrows her eyes and studies her, almost like she wants to say more, but is holding herself back. "I don't like this. I don't know what she's playing at, but I will say it wasn't as random as you think. After you left, she rode the elevator up the top, closed the doors, rode it straight back down, and left the hotel."

"So she targeted us?" Beth surmises.

Veronica nods. "Yeah. It looks like she went after Mick specifically."

"Okay. We'll look into it. I'm not sure that it means anything, though." She really hoped Veronica couldn't read how nervous she was feeling about this new information.

Still holding her gaze steady, Veronica sighs. "Sure. Maybe you're right. But if I find out you're lying, or that your 'employer' has any bad intentions, I will make you regret the day you ever stepped foot in this town." She finishes her statement with a flourish of her hands somewhat indicative of a noose.

It was such a childish gesture that Beth can't help laughing at her. Veronica scowls darkly. As she rises to leave, Beth stops her with a gentle hand upon her arm. "Veronica, you're wrong, you know."

"Wrong about what?" She huffs, turning sharply away from the well-intentioned gesture.

"About Logan being all alone. He has you."

For the first time, Veronica seems to drop her tough exterior, and she glances quickly off toward the failing sunlight. "Yeah, but I don't think I'm enough." She whispers, and strolls quickly through the crowd of tables, disappearing into the street among the lengthening shadows.

...

Mick was up, dressed, and fed, finishing up one of the bags of A-pos he had stashed in a locked electric cooler when Beth arrived back at their room. He smiles warmly at her and asks if she found someplace nice to eat.

Lowering her gaze, she realizes that after everything she had learned, she hadn't even felt hungry enough to finish her meal. "I ran into Veronica today. Well, I think she ran into me."

Mick's brow shoots up. "Really? What did she have to say?"

Beth concentrates on the carpet and tries to pull together all the stray thoughts she had been having since talking to Veronica. "Can I see that card again from the woman on the elevator?"

Mick blinks, looking confused. "Card?"

She crosses her arms and sits on the edge of the bed. "Yes. You showed it to me briefly yesterday and I want to take a look at it again."

Still blank faced, he absently pulls out his wallet and hands it over. "I don't know what you're talking about, but take a look."

Puzzled, she begins riffling through the contents until she sees what she was searching for. "You don't remember talking to that woman on the elevator yesterday? The one with the painted on dress? She tried to proposition you right in front of me." Her voice is edged with anger and frustration.

He shrugs his broad shoulders in honest confusion. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about. I thought we came straight back here. Was this before we met Logan?"

Her anxiety increasing, Beth stands up, card in hand. "Look," she shoves the card under his nose. "You don't remember her handing you this?" _What was going on with him? Why was he lying? _She tries to keep her doubts at bay, but for some reason, she keeps picturing the oddly _familiar_ way Lana had brushed against Mick's arm and the intensity of his gaze staring back. And now, he says he can't remember? Her stomach turns at thoughts of what he might have been up to while she was out.

"No, not at all. I don't remember any one. Why?" His dark, soulful eyes meet hers, and her doubts evaporate. There is no lie hidden in those eyes. She knows him too well for that, and Mick may be a vampire, but to her, he's always been painfully transparent.

A smile perches on her lips. "Veronica must have gotten the security footage of the building some how." She watches his face go slack with shock.

"Veronica did what?"

Continuing on, she waves away his questions for the moment. There are more pressing issues. "She saw us and this woman, Lana, on the elevator. And so did Logan. I guess he must have recognized her, because she said this 'Lana Montgomery' was once 'Lana Echolls,' his dad's first wife."

Mick takes the card and studies it in earnest. She watches as he knits his brow in concentration. "Long, brown hair? Skin tight dress? Big wide-set eyes? I think I do remember, but it's foggy. Distant. That is so strange." He rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to look at her. She is stunned by the horrified expression haunting his eyes. "I don't forget faces, Beth. I don't forget them _ever._ So why can't I see hers?"

Beth collapses again. A small, silly theory she had earlier dismissed as preposterous suddenly flares back into life. After years of learning the hard way to not ignore her gut, she turns her head up to him. "Maybe it's time to call Josef."


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n- Okay, so I really liked writing this chapter. A lot. Hopefully you will appreciate it as much as I do. As always, reviews are awesome.**

**I shall try to get the next chapter up soon. I'm finding, as I right this, my initial estimate for story length is a tad too small. Right now, I think this might go closer to 30 chapters or so. Don't know yet, but there are a lot of things I want to put into this. Plus, I'm having a lot of fun with it. So, for now, it's going to keep going a while.**

Celebrations

Josef knew this was a mistake. It didn't stop him, but he still knew that the second he opened the door to the penthouse suite at the ironically named "Neptune Grand" that he had made a huge error in judgment. _This was the town's idea of luxury? A glass wall and fish decor? All it's missing is oddly-shaped chandelier and some sort of post-modern artwork on the walls._

If he had any real sense, he'd still be in LA. Doing his job. Running his damn company. Not here. Not in Neptune, a real 'torches and pitchforks' kind of town if he ever saw one. But he just needed to know what was going on. Strike that. He needed to see the kid for himself. To be physically in his presence one more time and prove to himself this is all real. Or something like that.

Donning his 'peasant' clothing, a brown tweed flat cap, his favorite $4000 black moto jacket, and dark denim jeans, he slips out of the hotel suite he had just arrived at, hoping his growing sense of unease was nothing more than a lack of sleep and fresh blood.

His car, a silver Jag XKR-S with completely tinted windows, did little to quell his bad mood. He kept having to remind himself why he hadn't just driven his favorite Ferarri down to this somewhat seedy seaside town. _Oh, that's right, Josef, people tend to notice you when you stalk them driving a bright red neon sign_.

The first stop on the tour is the Echolls' mansion. There are a few scattered reporters camped outside the security gate, but overall, the place looks deserted. He decides to drive past, rather than to risk one of them accidently spotting him. After all, the whole reason this fiasco started was because he wanted to stay_ out_ of the papers.

For hours, he drives around the tow aimlessly, fruitlessly searching for an all too familiar face. Really though, he spends most of the time debating with himself about why he is even here in the first place. It wasn't like he could just stroll up to his double and say 'hey'. If he was being honest with himself, far back, in a teeny-tiny part of his brain where he still remembered what it was like to be human, he felt a connection with the kid deeper than he wanted to admit. He remembered that night in LA and how strangely electric it had been to lock eyes with him. And yet, he had also felt such a strange urge then to protect that kid. He wonders if, after 400 years, he has grown too soft for his own good.

What he should do is to take off, drive back to LA, get a bevy of freshies and hole-up in some swanky condo for a couple of weeks and just let this whole thing blow over. He knew there was never that much of a real threat on his character or his business prospects in the first place. Mick and Beth were just grasping at straws here anyway. No, what he was doing here wasn't just soft, _it was crazy._

Pulling his Jag up to a small, near empty section of beach, he allows himself a moment to stare at the fading sun setting over the ocean. It is all he needs to set his mind right and come to the decision to leave. It would have been a perfect, peaceful sunset, but some kids down by the rocks had a campfire going and he could hear their shouts and drunken dares from here. He laughs softly at a brief remembrance of his own misspent youth. By their age, he was entertaining royalty and trying to avoid being roped into an arranged marriage by his domineering father, the Viscount. Still, there were a few times were he had been free enough to enjoy a drunken night or two with his peers. He never had actual friends. Most of the people he had been around in his human days were servants and soldiers, neither of which made for good conversationalists. But at least they were decent drinking partners.

A figure, silhouetted in black, moves in front of the fire and begins yelling at the sky, whooping it up. Josef chuckles at how completely wasted the kid sounds. But as he listens, he hears an anguish in the cries that seemed far removed from simple drunken debauchery.

His blood, normally cool, turns to liquid ice.

Without thinking, he exits the car and stalks carefully down to the beach, as if being drawn forward by the call. Even though it has been seven years, he easily recognizes the shadowed outline in front of the fire. Perhaps it is because he often would see the same slope of the shoulder and tilt of the head reflected back at him in the mirror. The boy was jumping around now with another kid possessed of a shaggy mop of blonde hair. Both swing their glass liquor bottles around in the air like windmills before taking a swig and laughing. Several more figures on the other side of the fire cheer them on and Josef realized it was the first time he has actually heard the kid's voice. It, too, is chillingly familiar. He tucks himself into the deep recesses of an outcropped rock and watches.

"Hey Dick?" Logan calls out, and the blond kid stomps over. "Know what is so great about this?"

"No?"

Josef smiles to himself at the slurry way the boy's words come out.

"I just realized that I can stay out all night and no one will even care. No more 'daddy dearest' waiting up for me when I get home to tuck me in."

There is such venom in his voice, Josef reels back.

The blond one, however, seems completely oblivious to Logan's intent. "You know it, dude! Hey, maybe we should take this party back to your place. Like, make your 'mancipation official. I'll get a keg and call up some more girls. Hell, I guess you could even invite Ronnie, if you wanted to."

Logan sways unsteadily on his feet as he turns to look at his friend. "That, Dick, is an _excellent_ idea!"

Dick bounds off to tell the others about the plan and Logan is left momentarily alone. Josef studies him closely, watching the way he hugs his loose jacket across his chest and shivers. He knows, next to the bonfire, it isn't the temperature that is affecting the kid.

The moment is ended by the distant approach of vehicles. Dick and some of the other kids round back towards Logan, noticing the noise.

"Dude, if those PCHers are looking for another round, we'll show 'em." Dick exclaims to the encouragement of the crowd.

"Yeah, I owe Paco and his biker amigos some severe payback." Logan spits.

The engines cut off and a group of figures emerge out of the darkness. From his shadowed hiding spot, Josef can clearly see that these aren't bikers.

"Logan Echolls?" A voice calls out with an note of satisfied smugness.

Logan's laugh fills the air as he recognizes the cadence of the man's voice. "Aw, come on, Lambikins, you miss me already? I know we've become such _good_ friends lately, but I think you've got the wrong idea about me. But I'll always cherish our time together." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the uniformed sheriff who just crossed his arms and smirks.

Logan continues his taunts, getting right up in the officer's face. "Do you mind getting to the point? I sorry but I don't have all night for you, baby. Bigger and better things, you know." He waves his arms in a shoeing motion.

Lamb widenes his eyes, but continues to smile knowingly as he pops his gum. He nods to the other deputies with him and they begin to encircle Logan. "You need to come with me."

Logan starts laughing, but still hovers right up next to the Sheriff's face. "Why? I'm having a little thing here with my friends, Lamby, in case you didn't notice. I mean, what kind of host would I be if I left early? So, rude. I might not be invited back to next year's Debutant Ball."

The gum pops and cracks like gun shots in the ensuing silence. Lamb leans forward in an attempt to be intimidating, but it seems too rehearsed. "Logan Echolls, you are under arrest for the murder of Felix Toombs."

Apparently, Lamb had expected a struggle, because the deputies around him tense and reach down towards their weapons. Logan looks around, silently worried for a moment before laughing as loudly and obnoxiously as he can.

"Well, that's interesting. Didn't you get the memo? I was cleared of those charges, you know, having been beaten unconscious by the same gang member you said I killed."

"Well," Lamb smirks, "not exactly, _compadre_. The charges are still pending. They would only get dismissed barring any actual evidence to the contrary. Unfortunately, it's not your lucky day." He places a finger right on Logan's chest and pushes. Hard. "Someone saw you."

Logan stares open-mouthed for all of two heartbearts, before glancing down at the finger on his chest. The air almost visibly electrifies as his anger grows.

"Well then. You might as well do me the honor of making it all official-like." He says, biting out the words, and jerking his arms out in front, wrists together.

Lamb wastes no time in spinning him around roughly and reading him his rights. He makes no effort to be gentle as he forces the silver cuffs over his hands and pushes him toward the waiting car.

Dick, the blond kid, darts quickly over to Logan and says, "Dude? What do you want me to do?" Not fast enough, a couple of the officers push him aside.

Logan warns him off with a sharp shake of his head. "Just tell Veronica," he commands, as the Sheriff leads him off the beach and into the back of the squad car.

Josef remains frozen, every muscle in his body on alert at the scene he had just witnessed. It had taken everything in him not to rush out there are rip out the throats of the arresting officers. His rage at seeing Logan arrested and Logan's own resigned acceptance made the vamp in him ache to be set loose. Even worse, his reaction had terrified him. In an attempt to calm his rage and fear, he keeps repeating, _he means nothing to me. He's just another human. He means nothing. You are not getting involved. You are going home. Leave it alone._ But as the party brakes up and the teens leave the beach, suddenly Josef makes a decision.

_Screw good ideas_, _I'm staying._


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n- a bit of a short one, but one of my favorite scenes so far. Hope you like it! **

**As always, thanks for the reviews, especially from SPK who's enthusiasm is contagious! Love hearing from all of you, keep it up!**

Sleepless

Veronica wakes sometime in the middle of the night to an incessant knocking at her apartment door. She moans, throwing aside the covers, and mutters to the heap of dozing fur at the foot of her bed, "Back-up, I'm seriously thinking about getting a cat." The dog picks his head up and looks at her with sleep-heavy eyes before dropping his head back down on his paws.

Dragging herself to the living room, she cringes when she hears an all-too-unwelcome voice calling her name in loud, obnoxious bursts. _Does no one in this town sleep any more?_ "You better have a fleet of ponies waiting for me, Dick. What do you want?" She says angrily, throwing open the door with a heart-stopping glare.

He flushes and slurs out, "Geez, Ronnie, why you gotta be like that?"

The smell of tequila and beer assaults her and she tries not to wretch. "God. How drunk are you, Dick?" She doesn't wait for him to answer, and chooses to keep firing. "Did you forget where you parked your car again? Cause I gotta tell you, I charge by the minute and I don't go on supply runs."

Looking briefly confused, he shifts on his feet and stares at the door frame. "Um, I _drove _here Ronnie, so I'm pretty sure my car is, like, out there." He cocks his head back toward the parking lot and chuckles lightly to himself. "And I've already got a supply of beer in the truck. You want some?"

"Jesus, Dick. You drove here?" She says with strained indignation, rubbing her burgeoning headache. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He chuckles taper off, as he senses her increasingly agitated mood, "Geez, chillax Ron. I'm not drunk. I mean, I stopped drinking when Logan got busted at our beach party, and I'm still kinda buzzed, but-." The slight slur at the end of every word tells her he is far more wasted than he is admitting.

"Wait, Logan got arrested? What happened?" She snaps at him, feeling fully awake now.

"Well," He crosses his arms like he's about to launch into a long-winded story, and she ups the intensity of her glare. Instantly, he drops his arms and looks down at her pajama bottoms. "So, like, I was throwing this sweet little bash on the beach, you know," he shifts his feet again nervously and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. She rolls her eyes angrily. Oh, she knew just what kind of party Dick was having. Once upon a time, she had gone to quite a few of those parties. Her glare goes to 11 and he briefly catches her eye again before turning his hulking body completely away. In any other circumstance, she would find it extremely comical that he was so scared of her he couldn't even face her. "Anyway," he continues to the wall behind her, "I was just trying to get Logan to loosen up and have a little fun. He's been pretty down lately, what with, you know, everything."

Gritting her teeth, Veronica quips, "Oh, I don't know, Dick. Seems like he's been having a _great_ time, what with getting beaten up, arrested, and finding out about Lilly and his dad. I mean, what kid wouldn't love that? And all the media attention, too? Icing on the cake."

Dick nods, like he completely agrees, and Veronica pinches her nose painfully, thinking, _oh my god, he really can't be that dense, can he? Then again, it is Dick. There is only one part of his body he uses, and it is definitely not his brain. _

Continuing his conversation with her wall, he says, "Like I said, he's been bummed. So we were down at the beach, minding our own business, when that tool, Lamb, shows up." He actually turns to stare at her now with his most puppy-like expression. One that she wasn't even aware he possessed until now. It's like a three-year-old who just discovered a broken vase his dog knocked over and is worried he's going to get punished for it. She sighs, and rolls her hand slightly trying to get him to continue. Eventually, he does. "Lamb just comes up and smiles like he knows something, and tells Logan he's under arrest for Felix's murder."

"What!" Veronica exclaims, causing him to stumble back into the door frame. "That's not possible. He was cleared."

Dick shakes his head. "Not according to that poser. Said there was new evidence. And a witness."

"Shit." Veronica mutters, wheels turning furiously in her brain. "Shit!" Louder this time, with a little foot stomp thrown in for good measure.

Dick reels back from her and struggles to remain standing as both her anger and another wave of his alcohol-induced stupor hits him. He's unsure whether he should stay and help with Logan or whether he should just pass out on the balcony and not worry about any of this anymore. Option two is looking better and better the more pissed Ronnie gets. Placing a hand out in front of him to steady himself, he slides down the door way to the floor. Somewhere distantly, he hears his own voice saying, "It's cool, Ronnie. I'll just wait here. You go take care of Logan. That's what you do, right?"

Even farther away, he hears her reply. "Shit! Seriously Dick? Wake up! I am not dealing with you, too. Come on!" He feels his body being moved at a slight pressure on his hips, but he's losing the ability to remain conscious. She's pushing at him, struggling to get him to move out of the door. Unable to push him far enough, she gives up and begins rolling him into her apartment, muttering angrily, "Grrr. Fine. Get in here. The last thing I need is for the neighbors to see your drunk ass parked outside my door all night. Seriously, how much did you guys drink?" He rolls ungracefully into the foyer and comes to a stop with his cheeks pressed against the bare floor. Before he completely looses consciousness, he thinks that whatever it is on his skin feels cool and _amazing_.

She huffs, breathing hard with the effort to move his large body and shuts the door. Briefly, she considers trying to force him to move to the couch, but then just shakes her head. _Why bother, the floor is a good place for dirt,_ she thinks. Back-up comes loping from her room and is immediately curious about the half-conscious boy sprawled out on the wooden foyer, face down. He sniffs around the body before perching himself up on top of his slowly breathing form, nesting into his back and dragging his paws out in long stretches. Dick groans and says something resembling "Yeah, babe, that feels nice," in slurry drunk-speak. Veronica throws up her hands in defeat and goes in search of her phone. And some coffee. Lots of coffee. As she steps around Dicks spread legs, she smiles remembering that when Back-up sleeps, he drools. A lot.

Later, with coffee brewing and phone in hand, she scrolls through her contacts until she finds the name she was looking for.

"Hello?" A soothing, sleepy baritone voice answers.

"Cliffy, _dahling,_" Veronica replies sweetly. "I'm glad you're awake."

"I'm not, Veronica." He answers curtly. "So... goodnight."

"Oh come on. The Seventh Veil doesn't close for another hour. Besides, I've got something you might be interested in."

"Unless this 'something' has red hair, enormous breasts, and a tongue like a tiger, I'm not."

"Cliffy," she throws the pout and the head tilt into her words, knowing he can't see them, but he can certainly hear them all the same. "Come on. I need a favor."

He sighs, groans, and shuffles the phone around. "What? And it really better be good. You still owe me from the last favor I did you."

In the background, she can her the squeak of his bedframe and the soft rustle of fabrics. She smiles to herself, knowing she's already roped him in. "Oh, you'll love it, I promise. I need you to get Logan out of jail."

He laughs, deeply and for a long time. "Again. Really, V? Is he trying to get some sort of perfect attendance award or something? Maybe a Ripley's nod?"

She chuckles right along with him, because really, what else can she do. "I think he might just like the decor. Or maybe it's the food. I hear they've started doing a wine and cheese tasting after 4 p.m."

His laughter comes to a slow halt, and he sighs. "Tell me what happened."

Veronica shifts the phone to the other ear, and eyes the still sleeping outline of Dick on the floor. "Lamb took him in for Felix's murder. Said there was a witness now. Maybe new evidence."

Cliff sighs again, louder. "V, you know I trust your judgment. Usually. But are you sure about all this? I mean, if there's a witness now, it's not looking good for his case. He might even have a hard time with the self defense angle."

A shot of steel goes through Veronica's body. "Yes, I'm certain. I know he's innocent. Logan might be a lot of things, Cliff, god knows I know that better than most. But he's _not_ a killer."

She can hear Cliff breathing, taking in what she's said. "Yeah. I know." He admits quietly. Veronica wonders at that. She knows Cliff has only spoken to Logan a handful of times, mostly just some questions about his emancipation paperwork, but she never thought Cliff had any particular opinion about him one way or another. Her mouth twitches in a smile. It must the 'Logan effect'. When people meet him, they either seem to instantly love him or instantly hate him. There were just no in-betweens.

"Look, Veronica," his voice is low and reassuring, "get some sleep." He stops her protest, adding, "I know, I know. But he'll be alright for a few hours. Besides, you've had a rough week, and you know your dad would kill you if you don't take care of yourself. Speaking of which... how's he doing?"

Veronica is very glad Cliff can't see her expression right now. With all the craziness that had been happening with Logan, she had really slacked off on her daughterly duties. Maybe Cliff was right about waiting until morning. "Good. He has to stay two more days until he's can be discharged." For the millionth time, she notices how quiet the apartment is without him around. "Did you know he's in talks with a publisher to write a book about this whole thing?"

"Really? Didn't know your old man had any talent in that department. Though, with his wry sense of humor and his grim outlook on life, he'd probably do better with his own reality show."

"Well, you wouldn't be wrong there." She chuckles. "But I don't think the lighting guys would appreciate all the work they would have to do stop the glare from bouncing off his head."

Cliff barks out a laugh. "Okay, V, I'm going back to bed. And I suggested you do the same. I'll meet you at the Sheriff's Department at 9 a.m. In the meantime, get some rest."

She nods, even though he can't see her. "Fine. Just need to sweep up some trash." She glances at the lump of blond hair and fur by the door warily.

"What?"

"Nevermind, Cliff. See you at 9." She disconnects and stares at Dick's immobile body, debating whether it's worth the effort to wake him up and force him out or not. Back-up snores peacefully from his perch, riding the slow steady up and down of Dick's chest like a boat on a wave. Her inner gooey-center wins out.

She shakes her head, sighing to herself, before flipping open her phone and snapping a picture of Dick. With a small, smug smile, she heads off to bed. _Ah, blackmail. _Besides, what could be better revenge for a drunk showing up in the middle of the night than waking him _bright _and _early_ to kick him out? Preferably with an air horn. Or ice water. Or her taser. Maybe some sort of combination of the three.

Happily distracted, Veronica drifts off.


	11. Chapter 11

**a/n- due to a fantastic response on my last chapter, I thought I would post this one a bit earlier than I had intended. I hope this will move the Lana storyline up a little. **

**For those of you wondering, there will be some angsty stuff coming up, especially for LoVe, but I don't have any plans to bring Duncan into the mix. I may mention what he's up to in a later chapter. Also, some of the timeline of S2 is going to get shuffled around (the witness coming forward, etc.) and it will shortly being going AU. I will try to keep it logically in canon as much as possible, however.**

**Questions, comments, concerns? REVIEW. I am waiting on pins and needles to hear from you! **

**Thanks again for reading...and now...**

Reception

"Hey, Mick, can you get that? It's probably my room service." Beth calls out from the tiny hotel bathroom, the smell of her tropical shampoo filling the rest of the room.

He tilts his head trying to catch a glimpse of her naked form in the shower, before answering the knocking at the door. He's so caught up on the slight glimpse of her naked, wet leg, that he fails to notice it's not room service at the door before it's too late. It's not even human.

"Housekeeping," Josef quips in high voice before pushing past a stunned Mick into the suite.

"Josef?" Mick asks in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Josef spins tightly and shrugs, "Thought I'd come check out the digs I'm paying for. Maybe take a little vacay for myself, seeing as the two of you are so found of this town. I here the seafood here is to die for." He does a little gesture with his fingers pressed against his lips and released in a flourish. Then, he adjusts his red suit jacket and claps his hands together as he looks around nosily. "So, where is Blondie?"

Mick growls and hikes up his shoulders. "She's in the shower, as if you couldn't tell." Mick is glad he has already reached over and shut the bathroom door completely while Josef was busy flouncing about.

A wicked grin spreads across Josef's face and Mick narrows his eyes, daring him to comment.

"Ah," he acquiesces. "So cleanliness is next to godliness after all. Dinner?"

Mick shakes his head. "Why are you here? I thought I told you it was too risky."

Josef runs his hand down the satiny drapes absently, "What can I say? Maybe my hearing is starting to go. They say it can happen after you reach your fourth century."

"Josef. Go home. Let us handle this."

Josef looks up, and sharpens his gaze. "Ah, see, that's where you're wrong. You aren't handling it."

Mick fights back an urge to defend himself and instead remains silent.

"Did you even know that Logan was arrested again?"

"What? How'd that happen. Wait," Mick said, rounding on Josef, "How do you know?"

Never one to back down, Josef states fiercely, "Look, does it matter? All that matters is that you keep my boy safe. I didn't hire you so that you and Blondie could shack up like honeymooners and play footsies. I-."

"Wait a minute," interrupts Mick, pointing a finger at him with a smirk. "You called Logan your 'boy'."

Josef's eyes went dark. "No I didn't." He snaps.

"Yes you did," Beth states from the bathroom doorway. Her hair is went and knotted loosely in a bun and the fluffy bath robe she is wrapped up in exposes too much of the smooth curve of her legs.

Both men take a beat before they can answer, trying not to look over at her while she gathers up her clothes. "I distinctly remember calling him _the_ boy. Why would I say that...other thing." Answers Josef defensively, crossing his arms and pouting like a sullen child.

Both Mick and Beth exchange glances and smile simultaneously.

Josef waves his hand in frustration and turns back to the curtains, seemingly finding them very interesting. "A slip of the tongue." He leers at Beth for a second, looking noticeably down her half naked body. "Although normally ladies tend to enjoy it when my tongue slips."

Beth fakes a gag reflex and returns to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Meanwhile, Josef has fallen into the small recliner, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "You know, Mick, maybe my problem is that I haven't had a good meal since I've arrived here. You got anything to drink that's decent?"

Mick shakes his head and shows him the contents of his cooler, a couple bags of A pos sit on the bottom shelf. "I'm actually running pretty low. I didn't think about that when I decided to stay on."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Josef replies, pulling out his phone. He punches up a number and says. "Hey, it's Josef. I'm down your way and in need of a hook up? Got anyone you can send over?" He listens to the response, watching Mick with a knowing smile on his face. "Sure, that would great. Penthouse Suite, Neptune Grand. It's under Tony Camonte." He says, ending the call.

Mick quirks an eyebrow at him and mouths, "Scarface?"

Josef shrugs and tells him, "What? Howard Hughes was a good friend but a lousy poker player. I bet him he couldn't make a movie about Al Capone without the entire mafia on his back, but it turned out to be one of Al's favorites. I do have to say, for being completely mental, the man had enormous cajones." Josef smiles to himself as Beth and Mick look on in wonder.

"Who? Hefner or Capone?" Mick asks.

Josef shrugs. "Both. Although, between you and me, Hefner had the better parties." His eyes close, and slow wicked smile spreads across his lips.

Mick frowns and waits for him to finish his moment.

Clapping and rubbing his hands together, Josef leaps up off the chair, "Well now children, we've got some time to kill, how about you fill me in on what you've found out?"

Beth, having returned from the bathroom dressed in jeans and a light cardigan, picks up her laptop from the bed and pulls up the files she's been working on. "Okay, Mick and I have ran every possible lead to find an anomaly in his birth, but it's just not there. Blood type, parentage, all of it is normal. So, basically square one. However, something else has turned up that is sort of strange." She looks to Mick.

Mick clears his throat as he begins, "A couple nights ago, Beth and I were returning to our room, when we met up with a, um...lady... on the elevator. She, um, sort of propositioned me."

Josef falls back into the chair laughing. "What? Why are you telling me this? Do you need me to explain how it works to you?"

Mick growls and shakes his head, "That's not what this is about. She gave me her card, said her name was Lana Montgomery. But that's not the weird part. It was like she did something to me. I felt drugged, my senses were off. I couldn't even remember what she looked like afterwards. Beth had to remind me all about it."

Dropping the smile, Josef leans in. "That's not good. Did she drug you?"

"No, she didn't, she barely even touched me. But that is not all."

Beth swings the computer screen around to show a beautiful young lady with long, dark hair and wide-set brown eyes. She is arm in arm with another man who image makes Josef's blood boil. "This is Lana Echolls, Aaron Echolls' first wife." Beth explains. "She goes by Lana Montgomery now. And what she is doing here is anybody's guess."

Josef takes one last, long look at the screen and quickly walks out the door without a word, leaving Beth and Mick to wonder just what had happened.

...

Josef paces his penthouse suite, feeling frustrated and irritable. He's tired, hungry, and lost in a flurry of memory. When a knock at his penthouse door startles him from his thoughts, he thinks maybe Mick has come after him. He listens to the heartbeat and realizes it is a human outside. _Thank god, my evening meal has arrived,_ he growls and throws the door open.

Lana Montgomery, aka Lana Echolls, aka Lana Perkins, leans against his doorway, dressed in a slender black dress and looking at her perfectly polished red nails. Without even looking up, she says, "Hello, Josef. Been a long time." Years have passed since he last saw the woman in front of him, and she has changed so drastically, he cannot reconcile the woman he knew with this sultry seductress in front of him.

Josef swallows and forces his face into an unreadable expression. "Well, look at what the cat dragged in." He opens the door wider for her to enter.

She slinks into the room like a panther, setting her purse down on the leather couch and turning to look at him for the first time. "Always the charmer. How have you been?" She smiles, and Josef winces from the intention he sees there.

"Small talk, huh? What are you doing here, Lana?" Josef shifts his shoulders around uncomfortably and distantly fiddles with the button on his suit jacket.

She shrugs her shoulders, the dress pulling against her breasts with the motion, and runs a deep red fingernail down his cheek and chest ending just above his heart. The low light of the chandelier makes her gold and ruby bracelet sparkle malevolently. "Just having a little fun. Why are you here? Hardly your type of town. A bit bright for you, isn't it?"

Struggling to remain impassive, Josef stares at her with disdain. "Oh, you know, every few decades, I like to mix it up a little." He waits for her to answer his original question.

She sighs and removes her hand from him, sweeping back her long hair, now with a noticeably grey streak, off her right shoulder. Then she tilts her head, almost to her shoulder, exposing the vein in her neck deliberately. "Thought you might like to see me. You know, for old time's sake." She watches him with her cool, curious eyes, not a hint of fear.

Growling low in his chest, Josef pushes himself back from her. "I don't know what your game is, but I told you years ago I was done with you."

The wicked smile spreads across her carnelian lips. "Oh, Josef. The thing is, I wasn't done with you." She swings around and picks up her purse. "Sure I can't tempt you? The vintage may have changed, but I guarantee the flavor is still as sweet." He bares a fang at her in disgust as he shakes his head. She shrugs again, grey eyes dancing with both glee and menace. "Your loss. Be seeing you around, lover boy."

She strolls back to the door. Josef tries to go after her to force her to tell her what she is doing here, what all this is about. But he can't move. It's like he's rooted to the spot, frozen, and unable to stop her. He can only watch her go, her hips swaying purposefully, that knowing smile still gracing her lips as she turns and closes the door on him. It's not until several minutes pass that he can feel the muscles in his body loosen up. Immediately, he rushes to call Mick.

...

As Mick arrives, unfortunately, so do the freshies Josef had ordered earlier. In no mood for food at the present, he shuffles the girls off into a bedroom apologetically and pulls Mick off to speak with him. "I think you were right." Josef says, keeping his voice low.

Mick can hear the agitation and feel the worry coming off his friend in waves. "What happened?"

"Never piss off a freshie, Mick. Always comes back to bite you. So to speak." Josef collapses down onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

Mick can't remember the last time Josef looked this miserable. He furrows his brow and looks at his friend, waiting for him to continue. With a grimace, Josef says, "Lana was here."

Then it dawns on him. Josef's behavior at seeing the picture, his words now. "Lana was one of your freshes?"

In response, Josef nods. "Years ago. She went by Lana Perkins then. Gorgeous, sweet, innocent girl. Straight off the farm. Literally. Came out here to be an actress, I think. One taste and I was hooked, Mick. There was just something about her blood. It was..." he shrugs sadly, one-shouldered, and lowers his eyes. "Anyway, we ended up getting pretty close." Mick can tell by the look in Josef's dark eyes exactly what he means by _close_. "Anyway, she wanted more from me than I was willing to give, I guess. I broke it off... badly. It's not something I'm proud of."

"And now what? She's out to get you?"

Josef runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since then. God, it's been... 25 years? You think she could still be trying to get revenge on me for something that happened that long ago?"

Mick offers him no condolences. He can't quite bring himself to absolve his friend of any blame quite yet. Getting _close_ with a freshie you don't intend to turn was an unspoken taboo amongst vampire kind for this exact reason. Still, this sort of mess Josef and Logan are in is a bit elaborate for a typical "scorned woman" revenge. "I don't like that she's here. I can't believe it's a coincidence. Not with her connection to Logan. Something's up, and she's at the center. But I don't know if or how she's involved."

Josef nods in agreement. "There's more. You know how you said you felt drugged around her?"

"Was it the same for you?" Mick asks worriedly.

"Not exactly. It was more like I was stunned. I couldn't move, I didn't have control over myself until she was beyond my reach. Damnit, Mick. This is not good." He shakes his head to clear it.

Mick looks up abruptly. "What about Logan. You said he was in jail."

Logan. Josef had nearly forgotten about the kid in the wake of the whirlwind that was Lana. A sicking impulse to flee back to LA and forget about this whole mess entirely nearly overcomes him. He's not sure why he was so concerned about the boy's welfare earlier, but the impulse seems to have momentarily left him. Perhaps there was nothing there after all.

Standing, Josef stalks about the suite. "There's nothing we can do for him right now. We need to figure out what Lana is up to. Besides, the kid's in custody at the Shefiff's office. It's not like he's on death row." Josef goes quite, his eyes unreadable and pensive. Mick joins him and places a hand on his back in a show of support. Josef turns, sighing in resignation. "I think we might need some help on this. I know of a guy. He's supposed to be good."

Mick nods, worry deeply set on his face. "Yeah. If you think it'll help. I don't like the idea of some woman hell bent on revenge with a power over vamps."

Josef is already on the phone. "Robert, I need the number of a vamp down here in Neptune. Runs some sort of security company. Name of Wiedman, Clarence Wiedman."


End file.
